The pastor moved to the side of the platform where he would read the Christmas story, and Ava and her family came in from the side door to arrange themselves in the manger scene.
When Spencer took flight, several oohs and aahs and one loud gasp—from Mrs. Tate, no doubt—interrupted the pastor’s reading.
Too bad she had to keep her eyes glued to the music as the rope creaked against the rafters. Spencer’s smile was probably brighter than the lamp lit star.
After letting the last chord dampen to silence, she swiveled on her bench to listen to the rest of the reading and almost choked trying to suppress a laugh.
Spencer was certainly hanging from the rafters, but his smile was more a grimace. His squirmy attempts to adjust himself in the harness made him look more like a crippled goose than an angel in flight.
A flying Christmas angel was likely to be a short-lived tradition.
The pastor turned the page in his Bible. “And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”
Leah turned to see Lenora, and this time failed to hold in her amusement. Her granddaughter was struggling to sit up in her straw bed, and Oliver was pushing her back down only to have “baby Jesus” practically sneer at him. After Oliver’s third attempt to furtively press her back, Lenora let out a very un-Jesus-like grunt of frustration.
The whole church burst into laughter, startling Lenora. She began to cry big dollops of tears.
Without any prodding, Oliver picked her up and did an awkward job of patting her on the back while she fussed.
Leah put a hand against her chest. What a balm to her heart to see—
“Woof!” Mickey growled at something at the back of the church and started to go after whatever it was. Ava lunged for the old dog and when pulling him back, tore off some “wool.”
Upon being thwarted, Mickey quickly changed his mind and jumped back into Ava’s lap, nearly knocking her over with a kiss to her face.
The entire church erupted in a fresh bout of laughter as the “Virgin Mary” tried to keep an overeager “sheep” from licking her on the lips.
The pastor plowed through the end of the story, often clearing his throat in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. The moment the last verse was read, Nolan called for his dog from the pews, and Ava audibly sighed. She turned to her husband, and when she glimpsed her daughter burrowed into Oliver’s neck, her scowl immediately disappeared and her face practically glowed.
Despite the craziness, this little Christmas pageant had turned out better than Leah had thought it would. She stood to guide Jennie back to their seat as the pastor led the congregation in an a cappella rendition of “Silent Night.”
Leah weaved around the deacons passing out the candles and helped her youngest slide onto the family pew. Instead of sitting next to Jennie though, Leah squished her way past her daughter’s knees and stumbled past Bryant to sit on his other side. He gave her a strange look but handed her a candle.
Once their candles were lit, Leah passed the flame to the people in front of them, then wriggled her free hand beneath Bryant’s and threaded her fingers through his.
He glanced down at their hands clasped together, then looked up at her. She couldn’t help but smile at the adorable wrinkle in his brow.
His expression relaxed. “You’re beautiful in candlelight,” he whispered.
She bit her lip to keep from countering his compliment, gave him a wink, then turned to listen to the last verse of “Silent Night.”
As was tradition, after the song ended, they all filed out of the church wordlessly with their candles, in contemplation of the Love that came down to bring joy to the world.
Outside, Jennie stopped the moment they’d stepped off the porch, causing Leah to nearly trip over her.
Jennie somehow grabbed her faster than Bryant had. “I’m sorry, Mama. I was stopping to tell you I’ve decided to stay with Ava again tonight.” She turned her head slightly. “Ava?”
“I’m right here.” Her sister walked over and took Jennie’s elbow. “We’d be happy to have you again.”
Leah swallowed. This would be the second night Jennie would stay with her sister. There weren’t many days left of Jennie’s visit.
Oliver walked up slowly, his eyes not on his wife or Jennie but Lenora’s little face smooshed against his arm. Lenora looked sweet with her squished cheeks and slack mouth bathed in moonlight. Seemingly reluctantly, he passed his blanketed bundle over to Ava. “I’ll get the buggy.”
The girls followed after him, leaving Leah and Bryant to exchange hushed goodbyes with neighbors and promises of prayers for safe travel to those leaving town by lantern light.
After a quiet conversation with the stagecoach driver, Bryant returned to her side. “You ready to get out of the cold?”
She nodded, but when he started off in front of her, she frowned.
Was he not even going to try to hold her hand after she’d held his during the last song?
After passing several houses, it seemed Bryant was content—or maybe resigned—to walk home in silence. With how often she’d avoided him since his return and their argument the other night, she’d probably kept him from hoping for anything more than not fighting until he left with Jennie.
She caught up and took his hand. She’d have to change the pattern. Though he glanced down with surprise again, he didn’t pull away.
“I was thinking the other day, there’s nearly seven months of your life I know nothing about. I know it’s my fault, since I never asked, and maybe you don’t want to talk about it, but I’d like to know. I can’t imagine it was easy.”
Many minutes passed, with nothing but the sound of their feet crunching in old snow.
She had asked her question out loud, hadn’t she?
About a block from home, he sighed. “Prison was simply a series of endless blank days.”
“So it wasn’t that bad?”
“Oh, it was bad. Every morning, I woke up thinking you’d gone to the kitchen to start breakfast as always, then within seconds, I realized you hadn’t been beside me all night, or the night before, nor would you be there for any of the nights ahead.”
Her heart did a sad flop.
“What made that worse was knowing you weren’t doing well. Not only were you not writing me, but when Jake visited, he shied away from answering any of my questions about you.”
“Jake went to see you?” She’d only known he’d escorted him to the prison.
“Sometime in June. He was worried about me.”
“Worried?”
“About what I’d do to myself.” His voice was so hushed, she’d barely heard him.
“You mean…?” She clasped her throat. “Jake thought you’d—?”
He squeezed her hand. “I didn’t. I’m still here.”
She tried to squeeze him back, but couldn’t. What right did she have to comfort him now? How heartless had she been for him to believe he’d not be missed?
After she’d finally regained consciousness days after the disastrous night she’d endured with Celia and the rustlers, she’d flirted with fatal thoughts herself. The first time she’d taken a good look in the mirror, noting how her body would forever now be in her way; the hours she’d grimaced through the pain of simply breathing; the weeks she’d ruminated over her husband’s betrayal and working up the courage to face the town—often, she’d wished she’d never woken up.
She’d been in a dark place for months. Then one day, Jacob had borne the brunt of her tirade against Bryant when Jacob had visited unannounced. Had he come over to tell her about Bryant then? Was that why he’d not told her about his worries?
Over the next few months, she’d had Annie and Corrine and the doctor’s wife to encourage her to get back on her feet. Ava, Jennie, Lenora, and Celia to live for.
Bryant, however, didn’t even have a kind letter from her to give him any hope for the future.
What if he’d
killed himself and she’d lost him forever?
Her throat grew tight and her eyes stung. She couldn’t have stopped the tears if she’d tried.
“What’s wrong?” Bryant slowed and pulled her close, the warmth of his body barely registering against the ice that had encased her heart for so long.
“I didn’t know. I was so hurt. I didn’t care. I should’ve—”
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t blame yourself for what I faced. That was all my doing. You’re not responsible for—”
“Don’t make excuses for me.” She pulled away from him. “I’ve done wrong, too—as much as you have, or maybe more, because it seems you did everything out of a desire to protect me. I only wanted to lash out at you.”
His brows drew together, as if unsure how to respond.
“In an odd sort of way, it felt good to be mad—to…to hate.” She crossed her arms tight against her middle, not letting herself return to his embrace. “Like too much sugar, it feels good for a while until you notice the sickening feeling building up on the inside.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back.
She held up her hand. “Before all this, I’d found it easy to do what God wanted. I’ve had some hard times, but nothing which had hurt me so deeply, so badly.”
She spun and marched toward the house. “What a fool I’ve been over the years, advising others how to follow God during rough times when I could fail like this.”
Bryant’s footsteps were steady beside her, his presence, like always, watchful, but never pushy.
Hot tears rolled down her icy cheeks, and she smeared them away. Bryant had stuck to his vows, chosen to love her, though she’d abandoned him to face the worst six months of his life alone. Even sticking with her when she’d continued to punish him after he’d finished paying his debt to society.
From now on—as Gwen had suggested—if an unforgiving or vengeful thought crossed her mind, she’d make herself think the opposite. If she didn’t choose love, she’d likely lose herself—and she’d definitely lose him. Tomorrow, she might not wake up as remorseful as she felt now, but she’d not let those feelings rule her.
How could she start off tomorrow in the right direction? What did a loving, forgiving wife do? She released all her pent up air in a rush. “In the morning, would you prefer I make doughnuts or that sausage and egg dish you like?”
After a step or two, she realized his footfalls no longer sounded alongside her. She turned.
Even from several feet away, she could see the tears glistening on his face in the moonlight.
“You mean…?” His rough voice caught.
She nodded slightly. She’d no longer force him to fend for himself. As she’d done for twenty years before this, she’d be waiting at the breakfast table, pray with him before they ate, kiss him before they parted for the day.
“I uh…” A long puffy cloud of frothy air filled the space between them as Bryant fidgeted. “I think I’d prefer you not to worry about breakfast at all.”
Why would he reject her olive branch? Oh. Bryant’s eyes were filled with something akin to hope. “You mean, you want me to stay by your side until you wake up?”
His nod was subtle, his body rigid as if bracing for rejection.
She looked back toward town. “I suppose anyone who wants to drop off their laundry in the morning can wait a little longer.”
He covered the space between them and slid his thumb from the corner of her mouth to the underside of her jaw. “Thank you.”
She nodded, and he planted a kiss atop her head before tucking her in close. For a second, she held herself stiffly against him, but couldn’t do so for long. A spiral of warmth surged through her as she relaxed against him. Burrowing into his side, her frozen limbs stopped complaining as they walked the rest of the way home together.
How she’d missed hearing his heart, being guided by his steady arm.
Seemed doing something she ought to do, though she didn’t feel like it, hadn’t been so bad after all. In fact, she couldn’t wait to see how she’d feel in the morning.
Tomorrow would be a better day than today. And even if it didn’t feel like it, she’d make it so.
Chapter Twelve
Bryant stepped out of the mercantile and flipped up the collar of his coat. He should’ve put on more layers before venturing out to get what he and Jennie needed to travel next week.
Across the street, his girls were safe and warm behind the seamstress’s ice-encrusted window. Ava had gifted her sister a couple new dresses for Christmas, insisting it’d help Jennie’s image as a saleswoman. Ava could never resist dressing up her little sister, especially since Jennie trusted her to pick the styles she’d like.
He’d hoped to see Leah at the fitting, but from what he could see through the window, she still hadn’t appeared.
Though he was freezing, he didn’t welcome the cruel sort of heat that filled him. He’d initially been happy this morning, waking up with his wife at his side. As promised, she hadn’t gotten up before dawn to cook breakfast, but she’d fidgeted long enough he knew she hadn’t wanted to be there. Though she’d allowed him to keep his arm around her as he dozed through the first hour of daybreak, he’d not pushed for anything more.
Last night, he’d thought they’d turned a corner, but maybe not. Either that or Leah’s early-rising habit was too ingrained for her to lie still and soak up the morning. As soon as the clock had chimed eight, he’d kissed her forehead and freed her to go start breakfast.
But when he’d entered the kitchen a half hour later, he’d found biscuits, jam, and a pitcher of milk. No Leah.
He sighed, his breath a frosty cloud in front of him. She used to tell him every single plan she had for the upcoming day over breakfast. Then they would pray, and he’d kiss her goodbye. He’d been looking forward to that this morning. But once again, she’d left him in the dark as to her plans and whereabouts.
He shook his head at his disappointment. Six months in prison had forced her to get along without him, and perhaps she’d gotten used to that. Or maybe she subconsciously believed he’d abandon her again and was going about life in a way that wouldn’t hurt so much when he did. Of course, he was leaving, but not because he’d failed her or even because he wanted to, but because he had to.
Looking both ways before crossing the street, he forced himself not to slump as he walked. When he opened the seamstress’s door, a fiery blast of warmth smote him in the face. Goodness, it was like an oven in here.
“Hey, Papa.” Ava gave him a big grin as Jennie stood dutifully with her arms widespread while the seamstress took measurements.
“Hey, pumpkin.” He scanned the room but only saw empty chairs. “I’d thought your mother would’ve wanted to help with the dresses.”
“We invited her,” Jennie said, shrugging. “But she hasn’t come. Did you get everything we need?”
“Yes.” Other than her mother’s presence. Surely Leah hadn’t been so desperate to leave his side this morning that she’d headed straight to the laundry, but where else would she be? Or maybe the day after Christmas was the busiest day of the year for a washerwoman. “I’ll go see if I can find your mother. She’ll at least want to know what colors you’re picking so she can get you a few hats from the new milliner.”
Jennie sighed audibly. “I don’t need hats.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I have a feeling you’ll get them anyway.”
The seamstress pulled a pin from her mouth. “I saw a divine yellow one with fake grapes draping off the side—oh!” She looked to Ava. “I have some yellow muslin. With Jennie’s dark hair and…”
Bryant backed out of the store, knowing he was no longer needed. Maybe he’d be needed at the laundry. Perhaps after Christmas dinners, everyone rushed in first thing to get stains removed before they set.
When he entered the laundry, a dark-headed woman with sharp features stood behind the counter, her arms full of linens.
<
br /> “Guten morgen. How can I help you?”
He cocked his head, trying to place the woman or think of a family in the area that had such a heavy accent other than the Volkmanns. “I was looking for Mrs. Whitsett.”
“I work here now.”
He blinked. “You do?”
Her face lit up. “Oh yes, it was Gott’s blessing. I use my last moneys to buy ze children an apple for Christmas, and now I have zis.”
His heart gave a slow, hopeful thump. Had Leah given the laundry away? Could that mean…?
The woman pointed to three young boys he’d not noticed playing jacks. “Now, we have a room to stay where it is dry when it rains, money to make, and food to buy when I get pay. It is a very much blessing. How can I do for you, sir? I will do more than Mrs. Whitsett, please.”
“You’ll do more than Mrs. Whitsett?”
She nodded emphatically. “She will teach me what I do not know, and then I will work very hard. You will be happy with my work.”
So this woman was an employee? The bubble inside his chest deflated. The milliner had told him Leah had been looking for help—and since he’d be leaving next week, Leah would need someone.
He closed his eyes. After last night, he’d thought about asking Jennie to postpone their trip to give Leah a chance to change her mind, but perhaps he’d only be delaying the inevitable.
“Mister?”
He opened his eyes, sorry to deny this woman work since her face was lit with such anticipation. “I don’t have any laundry, I was just looking for my… uh, Mrs. Whitsett.”
“Oh.” She frowned and looked toward the snow-spattered window. “She is not here right now. Maybe later when she come you can see her?”
He nodded as if he planned to return and backed out into the cold.
Likely best to go home and wait there rather than wander around looking for his wife. For what would he even say to her when he saw her? He had started to hope she’d come with him, but he’d been too optimistic.
Depending on You Page 9
