Paradise Falls

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Rose opened some tissue and held up a pale pink handkerchief edged with delicate lace, “Oh, this is far too fine to ever use.” She examined the lace. “I’ve never seen anything so fancy.”

  Fiona dimpled. “Mum will be so pleased. Though her hands aren’t as steady as they used to be, she still makes the finest lace.” She turned to the others. “These are also from Mum.”

  The three men opened their packages to find identical knitted gloves and made a great show of trying them on and praising the quality of the work.

  “These are from me.” Fiona handed Rose a lovely pink shawl, edged with darker pink roses and pale green leaves. “I’ve been knitting it for weeks.”

  Rose couldn’t hide her pleasure, even while protesting that it was far too fine to ever use.

  For the men Fiona had knitted scarves. “Yours is black, Mr. Haydn. I made yours, Gray, to match your name.” She shyly handed him a soft, dove gray one before turning to Flem. “And yours matches your personality. Flamboyant red,” she added, to the laughter of everyone.

  All three of the men quickly wrapped them around their necks to show them off.

  “They’re perfect,” Rose proclaimed. “And just the right colors for each of you.”

  “I made one for myself in bright yellow,” Fiona said, “to cheer me on these dark winter days.” Feeling festive, she draped the yellow scarf around her neck.

  “I believe that just leaves our presents.” Broderick turned to his oldest son. “Where have you hidden them?” Proudly wearing his scarf, Gray walked upstairs and returned carrying several parcels.

  Rose opened hers to find a bolt of pretty fabric in a pale pink flowered design. “So you can make yourself a new dress,” her husband explained.

  “It’s beautiful. And it will go perfectly with my new shawl and handkerchief.”

  Gray handed his brother a parcel, and Flem tore off the brown paper to find sheet music.

  For a moment he looked incredulous. Then with a grin he glanced over at his brother. “Scott Joplin?”

  “He’s a new songwriter. I thought you’d like his music. I had to send away for it from a catalog.”

  Flem hurried to the piano and studied the music before tentatively touching the keys. Within minutes he was pounding out a toe-tapping tune that had them all clapping their hands.

  When he was finished he squeezed Gray’s shoulder. “Thanks. It’s the best gift ever.”

  “It’s from Papa, too.”

  Flem walked to his father and bent down to kiss his cheek.

  Gray handed his father a small parcel. “I made this for you, Papa.”

  Broderick unwrapped it and held it up. “A new pipe.”

  “I carved it last week.”

  His father examined the intricate carving. “It’s almost too grand to use.” He stuck it between his teeth. “But I’ll force myself.”

  Everyone shared in the laughter as he said to Gray, “Now let’s give Miss Downey her gift.”

  Gray set a big box in front of Fiona. She knelt on the floor and tore aside the brown paper before peering inside. “Slates?” She began lifting out several small, neatly framed slates. “How many are there?”

  “An even dozen,” Broderick said proudly. “Gray framed each of them by band.”

  “Oh, my. I can’t think of anything I would have loved more. However could you have known?” With a little laugh Fiona set them aside and hurried over to press a kiss to Broderick’s cheek. When she turned to Gray he flushed and quickly stuck out his hand, as though afraid she might kiss him, too.

  She took his hand between both of hers, and then, unable to resist, she brushed her lips over his cheek. Just the slightest touch, but she felt a rush of heat all the way to her toes. “Thank you, Gray.”

  “Well.” Rose sat fingering the lace of her handkerchief. “I believe we could all make do with another sip of elderberry wine.”

  Flem was quick to pour, then he sat on the floor at his mother’s feet and drew up one knee, while Gray stood by the fire, staring into the flames.

  Rose’s voice grew dreamy. “I remember when you boys were about four and six. You waited up until past midnight hoping for a glimpse of Father Christmas.”

  Flem chuckled. “I was determined to stay awake the whole night. The next thing I knew, it was Christmas morning, and I was in my bed.”

  Gray laughed, remembering. “We’d made a pact to keep each other awake. Every time you dozed off, I’d give you a nudge. But when I finally fell asleep, and felt a nudge, it wasn’t you trying to wake me, but Aunt Gerda, who’d spent the night. She was the one who carried you to your bed. And when I realized I’d have to face Father Christmas alone, I decided I’d rather be in my bed, too.”

  “You? Afraid?” Flem shook his head in amazement. “That has to be the first and last time that has ever happened to the fierce Grayson Haydn.”

  Gray merely grinned.

  “What about you, Miss Downey?” Broderick sipped his wine. “What was Christmas like at your house?”

  “There was never a Christmas Eve as lively as this has been.” Fiona couldn’t help laughing as she allowed herself to go back in her mind. “My mum always made soda bread and a lovely beef roast with boiled potatoes and cabbage. We would exchange gifts and then Da would read to us.”

  “What did he read?”

  “The Sonnets of William Shakespeare were favorites of ours. We all shared a love of reading. But we were especially fond of the English poet, Robert Browning. Da loved reading his poems to us.”

  “Do you recall any of them?” Rose prodded.

  “I do. Yes.” She set aside her glass and thought a moment. Then in a soft voice she began. “The year’s at the spring, and day’s at the mom; morning’s at seven; the hillside’s dew-pearled. The lark’s on the wing; the snail’s on the thorn; God’s in His heaven—all’s right with the world.”

  She paused, fighting for composure. The pain, sharp and swift, had come over her with no warning, and now she felt tears prickling her lids.

  “I’m afraid I must beg your forgiveness, but it’s been a long and wonderful day, and now I must say goodnight.” She got to her feet, praying she could hold back the tears until she was safely out of sight. “I wish you all a very happy Christmas.”

  She heard their voices echoing that wish as she picked up her lantern and hurried from the room.

  Once inside her room she closed the door and set down the lantern before slipping out of her dress and petticoats. Shivering in the cold she pulled on the heavy cotton nightgown and turned toward her bed.

  There was a tissue-wrapped package resting on her pillow. Inside was a small book of poetry by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese. With a little gasp of pleasure she opened the book to find it inscribed simply with the date, and the name Grayson Haydn.

  “Oh, Gray.” Stunned and happy beyond belief, she clapped a hand to her mouth, then looked down in dismay at her nightclothes. It was too late to go back in the parlor and thank him for this wondrous gift. She would have to wait until tomorrow.

  She climbed beneath the covers and opened the book to a random page before beginning to read.

  The face of all the world is changed, I think, since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul move still, oh still, beside me as they stole betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink, was caught up into love, and taught the whole of life in a new rhythm.

  Fiona blew out the lantern and closed the book, pressing it to her heart. Strange. She had been dreading the thought of spending her first Christmas alone with these strangers in this faraway place. Now, they were no longer strangers, and the town of Paradise Falls didn’t seem so very different from the place she had once called home.

  Above all else, she knew she had found a good and true friend in the man who had just given her this most precious gift. She would cherish it, and him, for a lifetime.

  FOURTEEN

  Christmas morni
ng dawned cold and crisp, with new snow falling like a blanket of gauze over a soft, blurred landscape.

  Fiona washed and took great care while dressing. For Christmas services she chose her best Sunday dress, a soft ivory wool with a high, simple neckline and long, tapered sleeves. Over this she wore an ivory shawl which her mother had crocheted in a clever cabbage rose design. Instead of brushing her hair in its usual neat knot, she decided to wear it long and loose, and pinned to one side with the mother-of-pearl comb Flem had given her. As she studied her reflection in the looking glass, she decided that, with her hair falling around her face in such a fashion, she looked entirely too daring and not at all like a teacher. Before she could change her mind, there was a knock on her door and Flem’s muffled voice was calling her to breakfast.

  She set aside her looking glass and hurried to the kitchen, where the others had already gathered.

  Broderick sat at the head of the big kitchen table, sipping tea. Though he still wore a towel tied around his neck, his drooling was much less pronounced. As he sipped, more of the tea went down his throat than spilled down his bib.

  Gray was busy washing up, after seeing to his chores in the barn. His boots stood beside the stove, frosted with snow and dripping on a rug. He stood with his back to the room, his sleeves rolled to the elbows. Fiona studied the way his shirt stretched tightly across the muscles of his back and wondered at the dryness in her throat.

  Broderick set down his cup when he spotted her. “Well, don’t you look pretty.”

  Gray turned just as Flem called out, “I see you’re wearing my comb.”

  Embarrassed, she touched a hand to her hair, hating the flush she knew was on her cheeks. “I’m thinking I’ll take it out before we leave for town.”

  “Why?” Rose set a platter of sausage in the middle of the table.

  “It seems too... frivolous for the town’s teacher to be wearing.”

  “Nonsense.” Broderick glanced at his oldest son as he took his place at the table. “What do you think, Gray?”

  Gray took his time reaching for the platter of sausage and placing several on his father’s plate before helping himself to some. “It’s Christmas Day.”

  “Exactly.” Flem took the platter from his brother’s hands and held it out to Fiona. “Even a teacher is allowed to be frivolous on Christmas, don’t you think, Miss Downey?”

  She dimpled and speared a sausage. “I suppose so.” She glanced over at Gray. “I wanted to thank you...”

  Before she could finish he held up a hand. “The slates were from both Papa and me.”

  “Yes, but—” She saw the quick shake of his head and realized that he would be horribly embarrassed to have her mention aloud his other gift. Thinking quickly she amended, “The slates are really a gift to all my students, as well. A gift that will be appreciated for many years to come. I can’t tell you how much they mean to me.”

  Flem pretended to be wounded. “Does this mean you like them more than my comb?”

  Fiona laughed. “I love the comb, Flem, and whenever I want to be frivolous, I shall wear it.”

  “I’ll take that as a sign then.” He glanced around the table. “Whenever we see Miss Downey wearing a comb in her hair—”

  He looked up at the sound of a horse and cart. “Someone’s here.” Pushing back his chair he peered out the window. “It’s Christian and Edmer Rudd.”

  He threw open the backdoor and the two stomped up the steps. Christian was carrying a large, linen-wrapped parcel. When he stepped into the steamy kitchen, he removed his cap and called out greetings to all.

  “Happy Christmas.” He set his bundle on a sideboard and opened the wrapping.

  “Is that a smoked ham?” Rose crossed the room to examine it more closely.

  “That it is. Edmer and I went around to Frederick Dorf’s this morning and bought all he had brought from Little Bavaria.”

  “You... went to his wagon?” Rose couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “I spied it yesterday in a field just outside of town. I knew that even Dorf wouldn’t be out and about on Christmas Day. And I thought, since Little Bavaria sells the finest hams around, and Frederick Dorf is the only peddler to bring them to our town, I’d present them to my friends and neighbors on this happy day.”

  “They are much appreciated. Come.” Rose stared knowingly at her sons. “We’ve plenty of room at our table. You must eat something.”

  Gray and Flem got to their feet and hurried to the parlor, returning with two additional chairs. When Christian and Edmer were seated, Rose began passing them platters of sausage and eggs and slices of bread warm from the oven.

  Christian was in a fine mood. After indulging his hearty appetite, he sat back, replete, sipping strong hot tea. “We invited Dolph and Will VanderSleet to supper after services. Lida would be pleased if you would join us as well.”

  Rose’s glance took in Fiona. “That would be five additional guests at your table.”

  He avoided looking directly at Fiona. “We have room. Lida has asked Reverend Schmidt and Brunhilde, and young Schuyler Gable and his wife Charlotte, as well.”

  Rose gave a slight nod of her head, and Broderick spoke for all of them. “We would be happy to come, Christian.”

  Edmer glanced shyly at Fiona, “You’ll come too, Miss Downey?”

  She nodded. “I would be honored.”

  “Good. Good.” Christian pushed away from the table and his son followed suit. “Now, we must be off to deliver the rest of these hams.” He nodded to each of them in turn before picking up his coat, “We’ll see you at services.”

  When they were gone Rose studied her husband over the rim of her cup. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Christian Rudd in such a mood. What do you think has come over him?”

  Broderick touched a napkin to his mouth. Such a simple thing, but it had been such a long time since he’d been able to do even the simplest things for himself. He set it down and smiled at his wife. “Perhaps he is learning how to be a stone in a pond.”

  Rose looked perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

  Broderick merely smiled. “Neither does Christian. But at least he’s willing to learn.”

  * * *

  “I’ll not ride in back of the wagon on Christmas.” Broderick stood on the back porch and made the pronouncement as Gray drove the team from the barn.

  Rose shot him a look. “Then who will ride in back?”

  “I care not.” He glanced at Flem as Gray brought the wagon to a halt. “Why don’t you and Miss Downey ride in back?”

  While Gray looked on Flem gave a wicked grin. “A wonderful idea. How about it, teacher? Want to sit in the hay with me?”

  Before she could reply Gray interrupted. “If you think you’re ready to drive the team, Papa, maybe you and Ma would like to ride alone? Flem and I can take Miss Downey in the little sleigh.”

  Rose could see that her husband was itching to drive the team. She placed a hand on his arm. “I leave it up to you, Broderick. Are you feeling strong enough?”

  He nodded. “We’ll see you at church:” After scrambling up to the hard seat, he reached a hand to his wife.

  When they were gone Gray turned toward the barn. “It will only take a few minutes to hitch old Strawberry to the sleigh. Want to give me a hand, Flem?”

  Fleming shook his head. “I’ll just stay here with Miss Downey while you take care of it.”

  He watched his brother walk away before turning to Fiona. “Alone at last. I thought they’d never leave.”

  While she laughed softly at his words he studied the comb, winking like the snowflakes that were falling around them. “I knew just how that would look in your hair.”

  “It’s beautiful, Flem.” She touched a hand to it, “I do love it.”

  “I’m glad. I wanted to impress you.”

  “Why?”

  At her simple question he caught her by the chin and stared down into her eyes. When he realized that she was serious, he br
oke into a wide smile. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “That you’re beautiful. I’ve always loved being around beautiful women. I like looking at them. Flirting with them. Teasing them.” He leaned close and puckered his lips. “Kissing them.”

  She drew back as though he’d slapped her. “Don’t say such a thing, Flem.”

  “What?” He stared at her “That you’re beautiful? Or that I’d like to kiss you?”

  “Both. You’re too bold. You make it sound... like some sort of silly game. I’m not interested in flirting. Or... anything else you might have in mind.”

  “So prim and proper, aren’t you, Miss Downey? Know what I think?”

  “I don’t care what you think.” She started to turn away but he grabbed her by the arm and forced her to face him.

  “I think all that prim and proper starch in your petticoat is just playacting, to hide the passionate heart that beats inside.”

  She stared down at his hand as though it offended her. “Let me go, Flem.”

  He tightened his grasp and leaned close. “And if I don’t?”

  Just then they heard the jingle of harness. Flem withdrew his hand, breaking contact, and took a step back. By the time the horse and sleigh paused by the porch, Flem was smiling and whistling a little tune, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He settled Fiona in beside Gray, then sat next to her, tucking a fur throw over their laps.

  Gray flicked the reins. With the wind whistling past their faces, and the snow falling softly in their hair, the horse and sleigh moved smoothly over the fresh mounds of snow.

  While Fiona rode in silence, Flem seemed more cheerful than usual as they made their way to town, where, it seemed, everyone in Paradise Falls had come together for a joyous Christmas service.

  * * *

  “Oh, Fleming.” Lida clapped her hands. “Play us one more tune. Please.”

  After a festive supper, everyone was seated in the Rudd’s parlor, the women enjoying tea while the men drank dark beer and tapped their toes to Flem’s rousing music.