She screamed, stumbling backward even as Matilda tried to swat at her with a towel. Her foot caught on something, and she fell backward, landing hard on her bottom. An instant later, she was soaked. Sputtering, she looked up to see Ella standing over her with a bucket.
Isla sat on the floor, her skirt both blackened and soaked but otherwise unharmed. Heat flooded her face. She’d done it again! Sobs rose up in her throat, and she scrambled to her feet, tripping over the long dress tangling around her legs.
She had to get out of there before she destroyed another family’s home. Isla yanked open the door and rushed out into the swirling snow. The women called to her, but she ignored them. She should have never agreed to help in the kitchen. Now she’d caused another disaster and had ruined their Christmas. The snow covered the walkway, falling in a blanket of white thicker than she’d ever seen. Her slick little boots slid, and she nearly fell but managed to catch herself on the doorknob.
After thrusting open the door into the main house, Isla ran through the dining room and parlors, her wet shoes squishing across the carpeting.
A sob lodged in her throat. Jody! She dashed across the hall into the music room and to the painting. It hung on the wall, flat and lifeless.
“Let me through!” Isla screamed. She pounded her fist on the canvas, but it didn’t yield. “What do you want from me?”
Tears scorched down her face, burning trails of another failure and humiliation over her cheeks. She’d wrecked everything again. Her hand trembled over the canvas, and she dropped it to her side. Maybe she didn’t need to go to Jody. It was selfish to think it. She would only ruin things. Bad luck followed her like a curse, and Jody deserved better.
Footsteps pounded through the house, and an instant later Ella burst through the doorway. “Isla, are you all right?”
No. How could she be? She sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her wet knees.
Ella hurried to her side and crouched beside her. “Are you burned?” She started peeling Isla’s hands back.
“No.” Isla pushed her away. “I ruined your dress.”
“But are you harmed?” Ella gripped Isla’s shoulder. “I don’t care about the dress.”
Isla looked up at her, finding compassion and concern in Ella’s emerald eyes. “I mess up everything!”
Ella plopped down fully on the floor, her ruffles and lace spilling over the carpet. She barked a laugh. “Come, now. Stop your haverin’.”
“What?” Isla stared at her.
Ella waved a hand. “Means you’re talking nonsense. There’s nothing to be upset about as long as you’re unharmed.”
Isla lifted her eyebrows and gestured to the blackened place on the dress. “I know you’re ready to get rid of me, but the stupid painting won’t let me in.”
The smile faded from Ella’s face. “Why would I want to be rid of you?”
Isla shrugged. “Last time I started a kitchen fire the foster family kicked me out.”
They were quiet for a moment before Ella tipped Isla’s chin and forced her to look her in the eyes. “You mean more than a few yards of cloth. We wouldn’t turn you out for an accident.”
Her throat constricted, and she looked away.
“I see now.” Ella sighed. “You were sent to me because you need to hear the same lesson I had to learn.” Her smile was gentle. “Truth be told, I still need reminding from time to time. Perhaps your visit is for us both.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I first saw that place”—Ella gestured toward the painting—“I struggled with feeling abandoned, unwanted, and as though I would never be good enough for anything.”
The words struck a chord somewhere deep within her soul, and Isla leaned closer. Ella seemed like such a confident woman. Why had she felt like that?
“The Lord used those dreams to teach me that no matter my circumstances, I was dear to Him. Precious in His eyes.”
Isla shrank back. She knew God loved her. But she was such a wreck. Always afraid, always screwing things up. “It’s my fault my parents died.” Her throat burned with pain screaming for release. “I was scared of a storm and insisted they come get me from a friend’s house. I never saw them again.”
“Oh, child.” Ella wiped the tears from Isla’s face. “That isn’t your fault. That was just their time. Were they believers?”
Isla nodded.
“Then you shall see them again, lass.” Ella kissed her cheek. “They loved you very much, and so does the God who made you. He’s given you this chance for healing.”
She glanced back at the painting. God had done something totally miraculous just for her. She didn’t deserve it, but He loved her that much anyway. Isla wiped tears from her eyes.
“Don’t lock your heart away.” Ella rubbed Isla’s shoulder. “I know life is hard, and trials tear us down. Don’t let those bad times mar the good ones He has in store by assuming you ‘ruin everything.’ When you do that, you push away the love offered to you.”
That was exactly what she’d done with Jody. Isla looked up at the painting. “I want to go home.”
Home. The future Belmont wasn’t her home, but maybe Jody was. She wanted to adopt her. Be her mother. And home was more about the people than the house they—
Ella gasped.
Isla snapped her head up. A light shimmered across the room, dancing in layers of brilliant golds that draped over their dresses. The painting! No longer dull, vibrant grass swayed around the base of a velvety tree decked with star-shaped leaves.
Isla leapt to her feet. “It’s open!” She hurried forward and stuck out her fingers, relishing the feel of the fresh breeze coming from within. All she had to do was reach through and—
She hesitated and looked over her shoulder. Ella’s mouth parted, and her wide eyes focused on the swaying grass.
“Come with me?”
Longing filled Ella’s eyes, but she shook her head and took a step back. “It’s not time for me to return.”
Ella’s place was here, with her family. And Isla’s was back with Jody. Something told her the painting would remain open a little longer, and she grabbed Ella into a tight hug.
“Thank you.”
Ella patted her back. “You are special, lass. Don’t you ever forget it.”
Isla grinned as Ella gestured her forward.
“Tell your family good-bye for me?”
Ella nodded.
“And tell them I appreciate how nice they were to me.”
“I will.”
“And tell them Merry Christmas.”
Ella laughed. “I will, lass. Now best you hurry.”
Isla turned back toward the painting and stepped close. The warm light caressed her face, bathing her in a radiant feeling of love and acceptance. It filled her heart, diving into the empty places she’d tried to hide.
Thank you, Lord, for loving me.
She reached forward and closed her eyes against the brilliant light. Her nerves tingled, and then the light enveloped her.
Isla woke with a start and bolted upright. Light filtered through the drawn curtains and fell in muted stripes across the carpet. She sat up. Wait. This was the rose room. Not the room Ella had given her.
That meant…
“Jody!”
She leapt from bed, her feet landing on the thick rug, and hurried across the floor. Before she could grasp the knob to the adjoining door, it flew open.
“What’s wrong?” Jody rushed inside, her almond-shaped eyes wide and her black hair in a crooked ponytail. “What happened?”
Isla wrapped her in a hug. Her heart pounded. She’d made it back!
Jody froze for a moment, then returned the embrace. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave, I promise.”
Jody pulled out of Isla’s tight grip. “Leave? What are you talking about?”
She didn’t know? What about the conversation she’d overheard Jody and Ca
mille having? “Uh, what day is it?”
Jody stared at her. “What do you mean?” She pointed a finger. “You haven’t been experimenting with drugs, have you?”
“What? No.” Isla glanced at a digital clock on the nightstand. Seven A.M. “How long have we been here?”
Jody crossed her arms over her faded cat T-shirt. “We got here yesterday.”
Had the painting sent her back to the first night? “You didn’t miss me?”
“You mean after you were supposed to come have snacks with me but then missed dinner and then disappeared for the rest of the evening instead?” She sighed. “Of course I did.”
So Jody thought she’d hidden somewhere instead of going through the painting. Well, duh. Who would think to wonder if a person had fallen through a painting? But, that had been days ago. It should be Christmas Eve. Or maybe even Christmas Day.
Jody stared at her. “Did you have some kind of weird dream?”
Had she? Had the entire thing been a dream? She lifted her shoulders. “I went through Ella’s painting and ended up in the past. I spent several days in the eighteen hundreds.”
Jody stared at her a moment and then laughed. “Wow. That’s a crazy dream.”
But it hadn’t been a dream, had it? If it had, then that meant…
“Um, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
Isla picked at her fingernails. “It’s going to sound crazy, and if this was part of my dream, then just forget I said anything, okay?”
Jody’s forehead puckered. “What are you talking about?”
Better just spit it out and get it over with. “Are you going to adopt me?”
Jody’s eyes flew wide, and her hand slapped over her mouth.
Isla’s heart lurched. She should have known. Stupid. “I’m sorry. I know I’m too old.” She looked at her feet. “Sorry. Forget I said—”
“How did you know?”
Her gaze snapped up. What?
Jody stared at her, head tipped to the side. Then she gave a little grin. “I mean, I was going to ask and see if maybe—”
“Yes!” Isla squealed and grabbed Jody into a fierce hug.
“Really?” Jody spoke against Isla’s tangled hair. “I know you’re almost an adult, but I thought, if you want…” Her voice cracked and faded into a sob.
Isla pulled back and took a deep breath. “I want to bake Christmas cookies with you. And sing silly songs. And tell you when I’m scared. And ask your advice when I don’t know what to do.” Her own voice thickened. “And…and—”
Jody grabbed her and pulled her close, nearly crushing any remaining words that might have been forming in Isla’s chest.
“Me, too.”
Fire popped in the fireplace, and the Christmas tree blinked merrily with hundreds of little white lights. The smell of sugar cookies hung on the air. Isla took a seat in the music room and stared at the painting on the wall. Had she dreamed the entire thing? Or had she really gone back to the past?
Either way, it didn’t matter. God had given her a beautiful experience, and through that time in the past, showed her that she had both a mother and a Heavenly Father who loved her dearly.
The violin sat underneath the painting, the smooth wood glinting in the twinkling light. The instrument called to her again, and she gave in to the urge. Isla gently lifted the instrument from the case and drew a deep breath as she settled her chin in the rest and raised the neck.
Contentment swelled in her. She shouldn’t have given up playing. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to quit. The bow sat next to the case, and Isla bent to scoop it up. The hairs were in decent shape, only one or two broken and trailing.
“Play something for us?”
Startled, Isla turned to see Camille standing in the doorway. She stepped into the room, followed by Sandra and a very surprised-looking Jody.
Isla lowered the violin to her side. “I’m sorry. I know it’s old. I was careful, I promise.”
Sandra and Camille exchanged a look, and then Sandra stepped forward. “Last year someone donated that to us to help fill the music room with period instruments. It’s been sitting there for months. And then, wouldn’t you know, a few weeks ago we had a guest who happened to be a music enthusiast. He did some tinkering while he was here. He said he would tune that violin, even though I told him we didn’t have anyone who could play.”
Intrigued, Isla lifted it to her chin again. “It’s been a long time. But if it’s okay with you…”
“Absolutely!” Sandra clapped her hands. “I’d love to hear it played.”
With their encouragement, Isla drew the bow across the strings. The beautiful instrument vibrated beneath her fingers, drawing warmth from deep within her. She closed her eyes and drew the bow again, coaxing out a deep resonance. She faltered once, then settled.
The strings yielded beneath her fingers, and her muscles relaxed into a favorite song. Jody grinned as the music swelled, and Isla returned her smile. As she played, the part of her that had withered through the years bloomed to new life.
Her heart filled with hope as the room filled with the soulful melody. Her fingers switched, and she molded the tune into Silent Night. The hymn filled the crevices of her heart, reminding her of the Savior who loved her beyond measure.
The tune drew to a close, and Isla lowered the violin, the last note hovering on the air. Jody stood with her fingers over her lips, looking every bit as pleased as Momma had always been. Isla loved them both. And loving Jody didn’t mean she’d betrayed her parents. God had given her a big enough heart for all of them.
And she wouldn’t keep it locked away any longer.
Isla grinned and gave a little bow, then met Jody’s eyes. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
Tears filled Jody’s eyes as she smiled back. “Merry Christmas.”
Dear reader,
I hope you enjoyed Isla’s Christmas tale. If you would kindly take a moment to leave a quick review at your favorite online retailer, I would greatly appreciate it. It only takes a sentence or two, and helps me keep getting books in your hands. Thank you and Merry Christmas!
If you would like to read more about Ella and Belmont Plantation, be sure to read In His Eyes!
Special Thanks
I’d like to thank Joshua Cain for allowing me to use Belmont Plantation in my books, and Sandra Stillman and Camille Collins for being gracious enough to let me write them into my fanciful tale. Thank you for the wonderful visits to Belmont, the history, the stories, and your friendship.
To read more about Ella, her story, and Belmont Plantation, be sure to read In His Eyes!
Scottish Recipes
Scottish Black Buns
This moist, fruity cake covered with rich pastry is traditionally eaten at Hogmanay (New Year). Make it in advance so the flavors have time to mature.
Preparation time: less than 30 mins
Cooking time: over 2 hours
Equipment: a 900g/2lb loaf tin.
Serves 10-12
Ingredients
For the pastry
12 oz plain flour (3 cups)
3 oz lard (6 tablespoons)
3 oz butter or margarine (6 tablespoons)
(Note that if you don’t want to use lard, increase the butter/margarine by an equivalent amount)
Pinch of salt
Half teaspoon baking powder
Cold water
For the Filling
1 lb seedless raisins (2¾ cups)
1 lb cleaned currants (2¾ cups
2 oz chopped, blanched almonds (Third of a cup)
2 oz chopped mixed peel (¼ cup)
6 oz plain flour (1½ cups)
3 oz soft brown sugar (Third of a cup)
One level teaspoon ground allspice
Half level teaspoon each of ground ginger, ground cinnamon, baking powder
Generous pinch of black pepper
One tablespoon brandy
One large, beaten egg
&nb
sp; Milk to moisten
Method
Grease an 8-inch loaf tin. Rub the fats into the flour and salt and then mix in enough cold water to make a stiff dough (remember, it is going to line the tin). Roll out the pastry and cut into six pieces, using the bottom, top and four sides of the tin as a rough guide. Press the bottom and four side pieces into the tin, pressing the overlaps to seal the pastry shell.
Mix the raisins, currants, almonds, peel and sugar together. Sift in the flour, all the spices and baking powder and bind them together using the brandy and almost all the egg and add enough milk to moisten.
Pack the filling into the lined tin and add the pastry lid, pinching the edges and using milk or egg to seal really well. Lightly prick the surface with a fork and make four holes to the bottom of the tin with a skewer. Depress the center slightly (it will rise as it cooks).
Brush the top with milk or the rest of the egg to create a glaze.
Bake in a pre-heated oven at 325F/160C/Gas Mark 3 for 2½ to 3 hours. Test with a skewer which should come out clean; if not, continue cooking. An uncooked cake sizzles if you listen closely!
Cool in the tin and then turn onto a wire rack. Cool thoroughly before storing until Hogmanay.
*Recipe courtesy of rampantscotland.com
http://www.rampantscotland.com/recipes/blrecipe_blackbun.htm
Scottish Bannock Cakes
Oatcakes are a very traditional part of the Scottish diet. They were cooked on a griddle (a flat iron pot placed over the fire) but you can use a regular skillet or frying pan. In the story, this is what Isla pulls out of the oven.
Ingredients
4 oz (125g) medium oatmeal
2 teaspoons melted fat (bacon fat, if available)
2 pinches of bicarbonate of soda
Pinch of salt
3/4 tablespoons hot water
Additional oatmeal for kneading
Method
Mix the oatmeal, salt and bicarbonate and pour in the melted fat into the centre of the mixture. Stir well, using a porridge stick if you have one and add enough water to make into a stiff paste. Cover a surface in oatmeal and turn the mixture onto this. Work quickly as the paste is difficult to work if it cools. Divide into two and roll one half into a ball and knead with hands covered in oatmeal to stop it sticking. Roll out to around quarter inch thick. Put a plate which is slightly smaller than the size of your pan over the flattened mixture and cut round to leave a circular oatcake. Cut into quarters (also called farls) and place in a heated pan which has been lightly greased. Cook for about 3 minutes until the edges curl slightly, turn, and cook the other side. Get ready with another oatcake while the first is being cooked.
The Hope of Christmas Past Page 6
