Christmas at Stoney Creek

by Martha Rogers

  Tom waded across the street, waving at them in greeting. “Good morning, gentlemen. Mr. Swenson, I take it you’re on your way to the meeting with Mayor Gladstone.”

  “That I am, and I assume you’re going to write a story about what we decide to do. If so, then let’s not waste any more time.”

  Joe bade them good-bye but stayed in place until the two men climbed the steps and entered the courthouse. The sun had begun to peek through the clouds, promising a beautiful day after a night of fear and destruction. Some buildings had suffered damage, some livestock was likely lost, and trees had been downed by the winds, but so far he hadn’t heard any reports of lives lost, and that was a blessing. Property could be restored and buildings rebuilt, but a lost life would never return.

  Joe grinned and rocked on his feet as he gazed toward heaven. “Well, Lord, looks like You sent me here for this very reason.” He chuckled and remembered the story of Esther and how she had been used “for such a time as this” to help save her people. Yes, he was here by God’s hand and planning. Now it was time to give back what the good Lord had been so generous in providing to one Joe Fitzgerald Mayfield.

  CHAPTER 24

  TOM’S PRIDE IN his hometown grew each day as the flood victims and townspeople came together to help each other. Mayor Gladstone’s idea of a fund for recovery had met with the town council’s approval, and Mr. Swenson at the bank had announced loans without interest for those hardest hit. Every news story Tom wrote told of more generosity and thoughtful, practical care.

  Gretchen’s human interest stories had also aroused civic pride as more and more families joined together to assist one another. Tom sauntered over to Gretchen’s desk. A little over a week had passed since the flood, and now, three days before Thanksgiving, already one home and two barns had been restored.

  “Whose story are you writing this week?”

  Gretchen stopped typing and looked up at Tom. “This one is about the house rebuilding this past weekend at the Calhoun farm. The Kirks’ place will be the next on the list the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I’ve heard about how small towns always come together in times of crisis, but this is the first time I’ve witnessed it firsthand.”

  “I’m proud of our Stoney Creek people. Those families who lost everything are getting back on their feet through the efforts of both churches. The clothing drive at Reverend Booker’s church brought in more than I could ever expect. What did they decide to do with what was left over?”

  “That’s part of another story. They’re going to have a place at their church for people who may have tragedy or needs to come and find clothes and food. Mr. Hempstead donated several boxes filled with canned food, and Reverend Weatherby’s church will have a food pantry as well. Looks like the flood may have started more than just helping those in the flood.”

  Gretchen pulled the piece of paper from her typing machine and laid it on her desk. “Now that one is finished, I’m starting on the one about the tree lighting ceremony. Mayor Gladstone said it will go on as scheduled.” She laughed and inserted a clean sheet into her machine. “The next time I complain about so many steps up onto the boardwalks, I’ll remember how that kept the waters from flooding the shops and businesses during the storm. At first I thought that height off the ground was a little absurd, but now I’m thankful for it.”

  “The big flood they had back in 1875 really took a toll. The best thing to come out of it was the rebuilding of the town. Not much can be done about those farmlands and ranches closer to the creek unless they build up high, but maybe they’ll come up with something next time around.”

  “I hope so. Now back to work.” Gretchen turned her attention to her machine and the notes she had close by.

  With his work ready for Wednesday’s edition and on Mr. Blake’s desk, Tom decided to check in at the bakery. A cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll always satisfied his hunger this time of day.

  When he stepped outside, a wind gust swept around the corner of the building. A hint of the winter to come filled the air, and Tom buttoned up his suit coat. Soon he’d need to add another layer. South Central Texas usually stayed warm a little longer than the towns to the north, but the slight chill today indicated those days wouldn’t last much longer.

  He opened the door to the bakery, and the warmth welcomed him with aromas of the array of rolls, scones, and muffins in the display cases. Mrs. Delmont greeted him.

  “Hello, Tom. What can I serve you?”

  “Coffee and one of those cinnamon buns, please.” He glanced about the room. “Where is Faith? In the back?” Since the flood they had had little time to talk, and he found himself missing her.

  “No, she’s down at the church helping Angela finalize the plans for the joint Thanksgiving service Wednesday night. They decided to use the town hall since it’ll seat more people and it’s been cleared out of everyone from the flood.”

  As much as Tom wanted to see Faith, doubt filled him about seeing her with Angela. He was fairly sure he had no interest in Angela, but still it might be awkward to see the two of them together.

  Mrs. Delmont set the roll and a mug of coffee on the counter. He handed her the money. “Thank you.” He picked up the food and strolled to a table that overlooked Main Street.

  Down the way Hempstead’s store had a steady stream of customers. Women came out with baskets loaded with ingredients for their Thanksgiving meals. With Reverend Booker’s church taking on the clothing drive, Reverend Weatherby’s congregation had charge of the food distribution and planned a meal before the Wednesday evening services for all who didn’t have the facilities to provide their own this year.

  In fact, most of the stores appeared to be busy this Monday before the holiday. He loved this time of year partly because of all the good food and festivities to enjoy, but mainly because the Christmas season seemed to bring out the good in people, and generosity took over. Then, besides the holidays, there would be Clara and Theodore’s wedding as well this year. What a busy, happy time they could look forward to! It would certainly be a nice change from dealing with the cleanup from the storm.

  Faith appeared down the way coming in the direction of the bakery. Tom gulped down the last bite of cinnamon bun and the last dregs of coffee. If he hurried, he’d catch her before she got here. He wanted time to talk with her alone.

  He met her in the middle of the street. “Hello, Faith. I was just asking your mother about you. She said you were helping with the plans for the services Wednesday.”

  She peered up at him with raised eyebrows. “I was, and it’s going to be a beautiful one, but why were you asking about me?”

  Tom swallowed hard. What was wrong with him? This was Faith, his friend. “Um, I hoped we might have a few minutes together before you go back to work.”

  “All right. Ma doesn’t expect me back for another ten minutes or so. Where do you want to go?”

  Tom gulped and scanned the area around them. “Let’s go down the block to the hotel. We can sit in the lobby out of the chilly air.” He waved in that direction and grasped her elbow.

  When they reached the hotel, they entered the lobby and Tom headed for the corner where two wingback chairs offered some privacy. After Faith was seated, Tom sat down.

  Faith said nothing but sat there with an expectant look filling her eyes. Finally words came to Tom. He breathed deeply before blurting out, “Will you go to the church service with me Wednesday night and then to the tree lighting on Thursday?”

  “Of course I will. Don’t we always do those kinds of things together?” She tilted her head with a puzzled expression written across her features.

  Yes, they did, but he wanted it to be official this time rather than simply meeting up somewhere. How could he show her that this time was somehow different? Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a way. So he said simply, “Yes, well, then I’ll be by your house on Wednesday evening before the service.”

  “Better make that the church because my parents and I volu
nteered to help serve the meal there.”

  Of course they would. He should have thought of that. If his family hadn’t planned on being out at the Gordon ranch, his mother would be doing the same thing. “That’s fine. I’ll be coming from Aunt Hannah’s, so I’ll come on to the church and meet you there.”

  Faith stood and pulled her shawl up over her shoulders. “I’ll see you then, but now I must get back to the bakery. We have a lot of Thanksgiving orders to fill.”

  Tom stayed back on the boardwalk until she entered the bakery. That had not gone exactly like he’d planned, but he had until Wednesday night to figure how to let her know he wanted to see her as more than a friend.

  That was the strangest meeting she’d ever had with Tom. What had happened to him that he decided to ask her to attend something with him that they usually did together anyway? She bit her lip. He had asked her instead of Angela. Maybe that meant something. Still confused, she shrugged and hurried on into the bakery. They’d be spending time this evening getting orders ready for delivery tomorrow and Wednesday, so she had no time to worry herself with Tom’s behavior.

  When she entered the bakery, the early afternoon patrons were leaving. The door closed behind the last customer, and Faith turned over the sign to let people know the bakery was closed for serving but open for orders. When she entered the kitchen, Aunt Ruby rolled out pie crusts and Ma stacked the last of the dishes into the sink.

  “How did it go with planning the services for Wednesday night?” Ma poured hot water over the dishes.

  “Everything is all set. Hannah Gordon will play the piano, and Mrs. Grubbs the pump organ. Reverend Weatherby and Reverend Booker will both speak. Angela will sing a solo, and the choirs from both churches will combine to sing one hymn of thanks. Reverend Booker says the response to the service has been very good.”

  Aunt Ruby slipped a round piece of dough into a pie plate. “I would think so after all we’ve been through this past week. People of Stoney Creek are coming together like family. It’s good to see, and it bodes well for the Christmas Eve service as well.”

  Faith had always seen Stoney Creek as a family town anyway, so she had expected them to come together after the flood, but they had outdone themselves. Joe had been restoring damaged furniture, and from what she’d heard, he had plenty of orders to keep him busy in the workshop Mrs. Hutchins had set up for him in her storage shed. That man did have a way with a hammer and saw.

  The bell over their front door jangled. That meant someone needed baked goods. “I’ll get it, Ma.”

  Joe Fitzgerald greeted her when she came into the bakery. “Miss Delmont, I’d like a dozen of those chocolate cookies your mother makes so well. If you don’t have them, I’ll take plain sugar cookies.”

  “I have both.” She reached in with a piece of parchment in her hand to select the cookies.

  “Then give me a dozen of each. Little ones tend to get hungry for good cookies.”

  “Little children? Who are the lucky ones?”

  “I’m delivering a new table to the Kirk family. The one they had was really rickety and the storm didn’t help any. This and the cookies are my gift to them. Mr. Kirk had to cut down some trees, so we used the lumber to build the table.”

  “How nice for them. I’m sure the table is a beautiful piece of work.” Maybe someday she and Tom would have use for a new table in their home. She bit her lip and placed the cookies in a bag. She had to slow down on that dream; he’d only asked to take her to the tree lighting, not to marry him.

  She handed the cookies to Joe. “Will you be at the Thanksgiving service and the tree lighting? The electric lights will be a special treat this year.”

  “Hoping to be there. I’ve grown very fond of Stoney Creek and the people here. Don’t know how much longer I can stay, but I plan to enjoy every minute of it while I’m here.”

  He headed for the door when Ma ran from the kitchen. “Help! The stove’s on fire! Quick, get help!”

  Indeed smoke billowed from the kitchen and Aunt Ruby ran out flapping her apron and coughing. “I think it’s more smoke than fire in the room. The fire must be in the stove pipe.”

  Joe ran out to the street and yelled, “Fire! Fire! Fire at the bakery!”

  Faith’s eyes watered and her throat burned. She grabbed her shawl and followed her mother and aunt out to the street. People had come running from every direction. Tears flowed in rivers down Faith’s cheeks. Dear God, please help us! What in the world would they do about filling all their Thanksgiving orders? This could ruin Ma and Pa.

  CHAPTER 25

  WHEN JOE’S CRY for help reached the newspaper office, Tom raced from the building, followed by Gretchen and Mr. Blake. The street filled with those who formed the volunteer fire department, with Mr. Hempstead being the captain of the group. He divided the group in two sections and sent one around to the back of the bakery and one to the front.

  Smoke rolled out of the building, but no visible flames could be seen. Mr. Hempstead asked for any able-bodied men to help, so Tom rolled up his sleeves and joined the others in the water brigade. Some flames could now be seen through the window. Even as he passed bucket after bucket along the row, he searched for Faith and her mother.

  He finally spied them huddled together with Aunt Ruby near the bank. His heart sank at the sadness in their faces. With all the orders for the holidays the bakery should be booming with business. What would happen to them now?

  In less than forty-five minutes the fire was out, but what a mess remained. He dropped his bucket and raced to Faith’s side. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her close.

  “I’m so sorry about the building, but so thankful you and your family are okay.”

  Tears dampened his shirt when she buried her face against his chest. “Oh, Tom, what are we going to do? How will we ever get back to cooking?”

  He stroked her hair and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Let’s see how much damage there is and what needs to be done. I didn’t see a lot of flames, so maybe all isn’t lost.”

  “It was that old stove. Ma said it was going to ruin more than food one day.” She sniffed and stepped back from him. After pulling her shawl tighter about her shoulders, she grabbed her mother’s hand. “Well, let’s go see what’s left.”

  Tom followed them back to the bakery, where Mr. Delmont met them. “It’s not all bad, but we won’t be able to live or work here for a while. The stove is history, as are the cabinets and equipment in the kitchen. What didn’t burn is water soaked and smoke damaged.”

  Mrs. Delmont stepped around Tom. “I have to see.”

  Sheriff Bolton tried to stop her from entering the building, but she pushed him aside and went inside. Faith glared at her father and the sheriff as she followed her mother. Her expression dared them to stop her, and neither man even attempted.

  A chuckle rose in Tom’s throat and then burst into a laugh. He caught it and slapped his hand over his mouth. The situation wasn’t funny, but the determination and grit on Faith’s face was. He’d never seen her quite that riled up.

  A smile winked at the corner of the sheriff’s mouth. “I wasn’t about to try and stop her. She’s a woman on a mission.” He waved his hand at the door. “Care to follow them, Gus?”

  Mr. Delmont snapped his head in a nod. After he had gone, the sheriff shoved his hat back. “Most of the flames were contained in the stove pipe, but they spread enough to make the ceiling and second floor dangerous. The flames that did escape charred and blistered the walls and cabinets. Hempstead and I checked, and it’s nothing but residual smoke now, so the only danger would be in the structure, but from what I can tell, they’ll be able to rebuild.”

  “I’m thankful for that.” Tom peered through the door, but saw only waterlogged cases with drowned pastries and cookies. “Looks like they poured water over everything.”

  “They did, and they kept the fire contained in the kitchen area. Mr. Hempstead had a crew at the back p
ump hauling water to the kitchen, and the line out here dumped some on the floors and displays to keep them from sparking. It’ll take some repairs and time, but he’ll open again.”

  Which was good in the long run, but it didn’t answer the question of the here and now and holiday baking orders. He jerked around when a familiar voice called his name. Might have known his mother would be with the first group of ladies coming to offer help. “Hello, Mama. I see you’ve brought your helpers.”

  “Oh, Tom, we’re all in this together. How much damage was done? What can we do to help?”

  “I haven’t seen the damage, but the sheriff said it can be repaired and restored.”

  “But most likely not in time for this week’s orders to be filled.” She snapped her fingers and conferred with the ladies who had come with her.

  Tom shook his head and grinned. His mother would have them organized and working quicker than a cat pouncing on a mouse. Sure enough, she turned back to him with the most satisfied smile. She said nothing, and Tom itched to know what she had going in that brain of hers. It would be something good for certain.

  Mrs. Delmont and Faith exited the bakery. Tears dampened the cheeks of both women. They came to an abrupt halt when they realized the size of the crowd assembled in the street. Ma stepped forward. “Irene, we know this is your busy season, so some of us are offering our kitchens to help you get your orders filled.”

  Mrs. Delmont’s mouth gaped open and her hand flew up to cover it. Faith wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders. Aunt Ruby lifted the corner of her apron and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Sallie, that’s the kindest offer I’ve ever heard. But how will we get all the supplies we need? The flour and sugar are ruined and most of the spices will need replacing.”

  Mr. Hempstead strode forward. “Mrs. Delmont, you can have anything in the store you need to get your orders filled.”