“Who’s John Virgin?” Henry, a six-year-old with red hair and freckles, rubbed his chin.
Victoria gasped. “Oh my goodness.”
Mark coughed to cover a laugh. “Round yon virgin, Mother and Child is a description of the baby Jesus and his mother.”
“I see.” Henry’s brow furrowed.
Six-year-old Caroline raised her hand. “Where can we get some heavenly peas?”
Chapter 6
Mark tucked Carol’s hand in the crook of his arm, and they strolled the boardwalk from the church to her home. Andrew and Annie scampered a few steps ahead. “Maggie warned me it would be difficult to keep my composure, but I thought she was exaggerating,” he said quietly in her ear.
Carol laughed. “I wish you could have seen your face, especially when Caroline asked about the heavenly peas.”
“My face? It couldn’t have been as bad as Miss Wilson’s expression.” Mark chuckled.
“You handled it well. Better than I could have, I’m sure.” Their boots clicked in unison down the stairs of the boardwalk and quieted as they made their way along the path to her front porch. “Thank you for walking us home.”
Mark tipped his hat. “My pleasure. I enjoy being with you and find myself coming up with excuses to make sure I have the opportunity.” His eyes brightened. “Speaking of which, we’d like to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner. Several families in town are celebrating together, and the men are going to barbeque. If the weather holds out, there will be games and music. If it turns cold, Mrs. Potts will open the diner and we’ll assemble there.”
Annie hopped up and down. “Will there be pumpkin pie?”
Mark rubbed his stomach and grinned at the young girl. “There will be all sorts of desserts. My mother is making pecan and apple pies. But my favorite thing she makes is cornbread dressing.”
Carol’s hand went to her chest. “We would love to come.”
Mark leaned against the porch railing. “I imagine it will be different from the dinners you had back east this time of year, but the food will be good, and there’ll be plenty of it.”
“Definitely different from what we’ve experienced in the past. But it sounds fun.”
Andrew scowled. “Do I have to wear my Sunday clothes?”
Mark chuckled. “Coat and tie are optional on Thanksgiving Day in Carrie Town.” He removed Andrew’s wool cap and ruffled his hair. “Let’s just hope the weather is nice, and if so, I’ll show you how to play horseshoes.”
“Really?” Andrew’s eyes were wide. “We get to eat outside and play horseshoes for Thanksgiving?”
“That’s a fact.” Mark patted the young boy’s back.
“Me too?” Annie clasped her hands together.
“Of course. One of my fondest memories of the game is teaching my younger sister Maggie to play when she was about your age.” Mark leaned down and whispered, “Don’t tell anybody but she got so good, nobody wants to go up against her.”
Annie threw her arms around Mark’s neck. “I can’t wait for Thanksgiving.”
~
Carol extended her handheld mirror at arm’s length to get a better view of her new blue-patterned blouse and walking skirt. “It seems odd to wear something simple like this to Thanksgiving dinner, although it’s certainly more comfortable.”
“You look pretty.” Annie spun in a circle. “Thank you for my new dress.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Carol smiled at her sister’s rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. She’d been surprised Annie chose to wear her calico as opposed to her party dress, which hung pressed and waiting in Carol’s room.
Andrew’s boots appeared on the loft ladder, followed by his dark work pants and flannel shirt. Carol shook her head. If her mother were still alive, she’d have been appalled at their ordinary dress, especially for Thanksgiving.
“Is it time to go?” Andrew released his grip from the ladder and dropped onto the main level.
“Mark will be here to pick us up any minute.” Carol tapped her finger on her cheek. “I thought we agreed you would wear your dress shirt to dinner.”
“How am I going to learn to play horseshoes if I have to worry about getting my best clothes ruined?” Andrew scowled.
“The shirt he’s wearing looks nice.” Annie patted her brother’s arm. “It’s soft and has pretty colors.”
“Baby sister, you are the perpetual optimist.” Carol retied the bow in Annie’s hair.
“I love the colors in my new clothes too.” Annie squirmed. “It’s like my friend, Caroline’s. Her doll has the same outfit.”
Annie ran her finger along the narrow zigzag ribbon on the ruffle of her dress. “Do you think Santa might bring me one for my doll?”
“We’ll have to write him a letter and ask.” Carol’s mouth twitched. “Is there something else you might ask him for?”
“Maybe.” Annie lips pursed.
Carol’s eyebrows flew up. In years past, Annie would have quoted a long list of items she wanted for Christmas. “Are you having trouble narrowing your list down?”
Annie’s blue eyes widened. She wrapped a blond curl around her finger. “It’s not for me. It’s for Betsy and her brother, Thomas.”
“Oh, I see. It’s nice of you to think about your friends instead of yourself at Christmas.”
“Yes.” Annie’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been listening.”
“You’ve been listening to what?” Carol knelt beside her sister.
“To the Christmas stories.” Annie rested her hands on her hips. “You know the one about baby Jesus and Mr. Scrooge? I don’t want that Christmas angel to show up at our house.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “She keeps getting the two stories confused. When the teacher mentioned a heavenly host of angels appearing to the shepherds, Annie thought she said ghost. Then when you read A Christmas Carol to us, it made everything worse.”
Carol bit her lip. “I can see how that might confuse someone.” She laid her hand on Annie’s shoulder. “We believe the Bible to be the Holy Word of God and true from cover to cover. But A Christmas Carol is a story the author, Mr. Dickens, wrote to teach us a lesson about the true meaning of Christmas.”
Annie nodded, her face stoic. “Exactly. Which is why we don’t want to give that ghost any reason to come visiting our house.”
Chapter 7
Carol found herself humming as she helped Maggie arrange greenery, pumpkins and squash into charming centerpieces. The blue sky made a scenic backdrop for the assorted makeshift tables covered with various colors of oilcloths outside the church. It was a far cry from previous holiday celebrations held in her mother’s formal dining room where the ostentatious decorations contained flouncy centerpieces, lace tablecloths and fine china. “Everything is beautiful.”
Maggie set her hands on her hips and nodded. “I love it when we have sunny weather on Thanksgiving. To me there is nothing more pleasing than a crisp autumn day.”
“Annie is too young to remember our mother’s formal celebrations, but the look on my brother’s face when we arrived was priceless.” Carol nodded toward a group of young boys playing kick the can. Just beyond them, Mark and his brother Mike hammered metal posts in the ground for horseshoes. A rich aroma of hickory and smoked beef drifted from the area where Maggie’s father and father-in-law, Dr. Benton, worked together grilling meat over an open pit. “He declared this the best Thanksgiving ever.”
“I look forward to seeing his reaction to the rest of the games my brothers planned for this afternoon. There’s to be both a three-legged and gunnysack race, along with a hoop-rolling contest. The mercantile owner donated penny candy for the participants, but the grand prize is a pocketknife.”
Carol pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her brow. “When your brother first mentioned the event was held outdoors, I was doubtful. But it’s certainly warm enough, at least right now.”
Maggie nodded toward the basket, which contained Carol’s shawl and the children�
�s jackets. “You’ll need your outside wraps this evening once the sun starts to set.”
Annie and her friend, Betsy, carried a large basket filled with assorted squash. “Betsy’s sister brought these for the tables. Mrs. Montgomery asked that we bring them to you. She said it would be alright to go look at the barbecue pit, but to ask you first.”
“Hold up a minute and I’ll take you over.” Mark’s long strides ate up the distance between them. Carol’s eyes widened at the sight of his blue shirt and leather vest, which emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. “If you young ladies will allow me to escort you, it will give me a chance to get a closer peek at our dinner.”
Carol’s fingers tingled, and she fought the urge not to reach out and touch the dark hair that curled slightly above his collar. “Thank you, Mark.” She looked at both girls. “You two stay safely back and do whatever Mr. Montgomery says.”
“We will.” Annie nodded and pulled on her friend's arm. “Come on, Betsy.”
“I’ve never been to a barbeque before.” Betsy pulled on her lip. “We only brought beans to share, but the preacher said he likes them.”
Mark rubbed his stomach. “Well, nothing goes better with barbeque than beans.”
“Really?” The young girl's eyes were wide in her thin face.
“Sure, you just wait and see.” Mark cleared his throat. “Let’s see if the cooks will let us do some sampling.”
“If Betsy’s sister comes looking for her, will you tell her where we are?” Annie called over her shoulder.
“Of course.” Carol cupped her hand over her mouth. “And as soon as you’re done, you two come straight back here.”
“I’ll make sure they get back safe and sound.” Mark tipped his hat and grinned.
“Now that I think about it, I’ve never met her sister. Which one is she?” Carol shielded her eyes from the sun and searched the area. Several men congregated and were instructing young boys on the best methods for throwing horseshoes. Two women she didn’t recognize were arranging pies on the dessert table.
Maggie inclined her head toward a young woman in a faded bonnet speaking to the pastor and his wife. “Isabelle Miller is her name. She recently started working in town at the diner. She’s about our age, a little bit shy but sweet.”
“My sister is captivated with both Betsy and her brother, Thomas. She seems worried about them, but she won’t say why.” Carol studied the two girls standing next to Mark. Betsy’s worn dress was clean but tight and too short. Standing next to her, Annie wore a beautiful dress with a full skirt and three rows of zigzag trim—a stark contrast to her friend. And to think I considered it such a plain dress this morning.
Annie clapped at something Mark said. Betsy nodded and placed her hand in his. He glanced toward her and grinned. Carol’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed. This is just a temporary situation.
~
Pastor Nelson beat a wooden spoon against a tin cup announcing dinner was ready. He extended his long arms between the tables. “I love Thanksgiving. Not only because of the wonderful food we’ve come to associate with the holiday, but because the very name initiates the action of gratitude.”
He laid his hand on the head of his daughter, Ruth. “Recently, my family and I were reading William Bradford’s account of the trials and tribulations the pilgrims endured in order to reach this land, where they would not be persecuted for their religious beliefs. They faced one tragedy after another. The first winter was terribly cold.” Pastor Nelson chuckled. “I bet some of you are thinking if I don’t hurry up, that’s not the only thing that’s going to be cold.”
Carol met Mark’s grin and stifled a laugh.
“Just bear with me one more minute.” Pastor Nelson motioned with his hand. “Several of our young children have something prepared to share. Ruth will start, followed by Mary Ellen.”
The pastor’s daughter’s curls were tied back with a pink ribbon matching her calico dress. She cleared her throat. “During the first winter, bad weather, lack of food and sickness took their toll, and nearly half of the pilgrims died. At one point the daily ration was down to five kernels of corn a day.”
Mary Ellen’s red hair worn in two braids shone bright against her blue-patterned dress. Her voice was clear. “Even more incredible than their suffering was how they thanked God, not just when warmer weather and harvest came, but for His grace in the midst of each tribulation.”
Andrew and Thomas joined the two girls. “Each year at harvest, the pilgrims placed five kernels of corn at their plates to remind them of God’s provision.” Andrew elbowed his new friend.
“The first kernel reminds us God loves us.” Thomas held up two fingers. “The second reminds us He provides for us.”
Annie, Betsy and Caroline joined the group. “The third kernel reminds us of our friends.” Annie beamed.
“The fourth reminds us of our freedom to worship.” Caroline’s cheeks flushed.
Betsy peered at Annie who positioned her hands together and bowed her head. “Oh yes. The fifth kernel reminds us to pray and thank God for all our blessings.”
Annie beamed and clapped among a chorus full of amens.
Chapter 8
Mark ambled along the boardwalk with Carol after the children’s nativity play practice. He enjoyed the feel of her hand on his arm and the swishing sound of her skirts as they walked. “It’s funny when my sister volunteered me to help with the children’s pageant, I was dreading it. But I’ve enjoyed myself.” He spoke softly in her ear, “Of course, having such a pretty helper adds to my enjoyment.”
“I noticed Victoria Wilson had her eyes on you again at practice. I suppose what you’re saying is the feeling is mutual and you find her equally attractive.” Carol tapped Mark’s forearm lightly.
He stopped mid-step and stared. The dark shadows under her eyes when they first met had disappeared. Her cheeks were rosy and her mouth twitched. “I sure hope you’re teasing.”
“I am.” Carol giggled. The varying colors of blue in her eyes were bright, reminding him of a field of bluebonnets.
They resumed their stroll, stopping in front of Lois’s dress-shop window. A set of mannequins posed in matching dresses and half capes. Mark motioned with his thumb toward the doll tucked under the child-sized figure’s arm. “My sister told me for each child’s frock, the store owner designs a doll in an identical pattern. That one even has the same cloak.”
“Lois does an excellent job with the displays. Even though it’s on a much smaller scale, her designs rival those in the larger cities.” Carol studied Annie’s glowing face in the window’s reflection.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Annie sighed. “Her dolly has the same outfit and coat.”
‘Is that what you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?” Mark stepped closer.
Annie’s brow furrowed. “No.”
“Come look over here,” Andrew called from the shop next door. “Real cowboy boots.” Annie took a cursory look over her shoulder before skipping to join her brother in front of the mercantile.
“When Maggie assigned parts for the Christmas play, I knew Andrew wouldn’t have any problems remembering his lines. I was a little concerned Annie might be too young. But I haven’t seen her stumble once.” Mark nodded toward the pair whose faces were pressed against the window.
“They’ve worked on it every night for a week,” Carol spoke softly. “I’m secretly worried Annie may deviate from her part.”
“What makes you say that?” Mark’s eyebrow rose.
“She finds it unbelievable the innkeeper wouldn’t invite Mary and Joseph into their home.” Carol shook her head. “Although Annie knows Jesus was born in the stable and lay in a manger, with her imagination, she likes to change things and wants to welcome them into the inn.”
“Is she still confusing Charles Dicken’s book with the real Christmas story?” Mark inclined his head toward the pair.
“She understands the difference but learned about f
aith as tiny as a mustard seed in Sunday School last week. That has affected her in more ways than you can imagine. She’s even more determined to warn people against Scrooge-like behavior and wants to spread Christmas joy.”
Mark patted Carol’s hand. “I’m sure your mother would be pleased with the way you are raising the children.”
“Mama would be delighted how happy they are and how well they are doing in school.” Her brow wrinkled. “But this is far and away a different lifestyle than she had planned.”
“I know you grew up in a big city, but family is family no matter where you live.” Mark offered a half smile.
“I spent little time with my family growing up.” Carol sighed. “I completed my entire education at boarding school. Andrew spent the last two years at a similar institute. Although I do have fond memories of being home during Christmas and breaks between school terms.”
“That’s certainly different from my upbringing. My mother educated us at home. We did our schoolwork in the mornings and worked with my pa in his shop in the afternoons. In the evenings he would read to us from the Bible and then we would practice our instruments. If we were good, he read a chapter of a book or a short story like “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”
Carol met Mark’s gaze. Her lips parted slightly. “I can picture you and your brothers gathered around listening to your father. The more I’m around you, the more envious I become of your family.”
They paused in front of the large picture window of the mercantile. Annie stood on tiptoe listening to Andrew describe the colorful threads on the leather boot with mule-ear straps. Assorted tin signs advertising tobacco, cigars and hardware were arranged to the left. On the opposite side, an infant-sized doll with a china head dressed in a pink gown and cap trimmed in lace lay in a miniature cradle. Various wooden tops and blocks were positioned strategically in front of assorted-sized tins promoting the best spices, flour and cocoa.
Carol's Choice Page 3
