The Christmas Token

by Shanna Hatfield

  Amid cheers of agreement, Blake looked at Ginny with an odd glint in his eye.

  “Since it appears to be my turn, I’ll keep it brief by saying I’m grateful for friends, both old and new,” Blake said, raising his glass in a toast. “Thank you for being faithful and true.”

  Filly and Abby served dessert then Luke and Chauncy declared the men would clean up the dishes, while the women put up their feet and rested after preparing such a wonderful meal.

  Knowing it was pointless to argue, Filly took Erin by the hand and the women sauntered to the front parlor. They laughed and talked while the men’s rowdy banter floated down the hall from the kitchen.

  “Are you sure they don’t need some help?” Aleta Bruner asked, craning her neck to see into the dining room across the hall where her husband and son were helping clear away the last of the dishes.

  “They’ll manage,” Filly said, knowing Luke would chase her out of the kitchen if she tried to help. Worse, he might decide to waltz her around in front of their guests, or steal a few kisses.

  Sensing the direction of her sister-in-law’s thoughts, Ginny looked at Filly and grinned, nodding her head.

  “Would you ladies like a spot of tea?” Blake asked, bringing in a tray with tea service. With his British accent, he could pass as a butler in the grand Granger House.

  He’d seen many fancy homes and estates in his life, but he’d never found a parlor as inviting or as pleasing as the one the women sat in now. Decorated in shades of green and cream, the room was a cozy haven for all who lingered there. Glancing at the females sitting around the room, his eyes wandered to Ginny. She sat on a low chair by the fire, holding a picture book for Erin.

  “We’d love some, kind sir,” Filly said, motioning for Blake to set the tray on the low table in front of the sofa.

  Glancing at the women as he set down the tray, he saw a look pass between Filly and Abby that he knew meant trouble. Convinced he was about to be drawn into something he wanted no part of, he began backing slowly toward the door.

  “You ladies enjoy your tea,” Blake said, attempting to hasten his escape, only to have Erin run over and wrap her arms around his leg, putting a halt to his retreat.

  “Unca Bake, tea party wif me?” Erin asked, smiling up at him with those big eyes again. He’d been drawn into the little schemer’s mischief once already today and wasn’t interested in being further disgraced. Erin made sure everyone knew he’d been kissing Ginny. Luke and Chauncy tormented him until he thought he might have to miss the meal rather than take more of their teasing.

  “I need to go help in the kitchen, sweetheart,” Blake said, picking up the little girl and returning her to Abby. He was almost to the door when he heard the women giggling and looked over his shoulder to see Ginny being shoved his direction.

  “Apparently, they aren’t able to drink their tea without sugar,” Ginny said, scowling at Filly and Abby as she left the parlor with Blake and walked slowly down the hall toward the kitchen.

  “But there is sugar on the tray. I put the sugar bowl there myself,” Blake said, knowing Abby and Filly were up to no good.

  “I see,” Ginny said, standing in the hall, tapping her foot in irritation.

  “Since everyone seems to be conspiring to force us together today, including Erin, what do you say we go for a walk?” Blake asked. The hopeful expression on his face wasn’t lost on Ginny and she nodded her agreement. He returned to the kitchen to get his hat and coat while Ginny fetched hers from her room. Rather than risk being seen walking out the door together, Ginny suggested they meet at the end of the walk.

  Making an excuse about needing fresh air, Blake left the men sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee and snacking on pie while he hurried out the back door.

  Reaching the fence around the yard, he didn’t have to wait long for Ginny to quietly open the front door and hurry toward him.

  “I feel like I’m skipping school,” she said, grinning up at him as they started walking toward Luke’s barn. The last thing either of them wanted was to encounter someone who would comment on their outing together.

  “Are you warm enough?” Blake asked, looking down at Ginny with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The sun was shining and the air was still, but cold.

  “Just a little chilly,” she said, turning her blue eyes up at him with a look that hinted an invitation.

  Placing his arm around her shoulders, he drew her closer to his side as they walked along. “Better?”

  “A little,” she said, reaching out to clasp his other hand in hers. The movement pressed her closer against his side and Blake couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be right at that moment.

  When she gave him a cheeky grin, he felt his heart trip around in his chest. They wandered out to where the creek ran through Luke’s property. Blake brushed off a fallen log and set his snowy white handkerchief on it. Ginny nodded her head in appreciation then took a seat.

  Sitting close beside her, he fought the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her until they both forgot all the reasons they didn’t belong together.

  “About the other day, Ginny,” Blake started to say, ready to apologize for forcing her to ride through town with him. He could have apologized for kissing her, repeatedly, but he wasn’t a bit sorry about doing it.

  His brain stopped working when Ginny placed her gloved fingers against his mouth.

  “Don’t, Blake. We both let things become more… involved than we planned. No need to apologize,” Ginny said, wishing Blake would make some move to get that involved again. She’d hardly slept a wink since going out to see his workshop the other day.

  Every time she closed her eyes, the look of wanting on his face played over and over in her head. His enticing scent beckoned to her and she dreamed she could feel his strong, muscled arms surrounding her. Lost in her fantasies of Blake, sleep became the last thing on her mind.

  “We won’t speak of it again, then,” Blake said, glad Ginny no longer seemed to be angry with him.

  Deciding to put her at ease, he asked her about her job at the newspaper, if her parents were well, and her plans for the Christmas season. She inquired about his woodworking projects, if he’d heard from his parents recently, and when he planned to see them again.

  They were visiting quietly when they looked across the creek to find four wild turkeys studying them.

  Ginny had never seen wild turkeys before and sat quietly watching them. The birds appeared so proud and regal, the artist in Ginny wished she had a pencil and pad handy so she could draw them.

  Leaning close to Blake, she whispered, “Aren’t they wonderful?”

  He turned his head to agree and found his lips all but touching hers. Despite his good intentions, he could no more keep from kissing her than he could from drawing his next breath.

  Taking off his glove, he slid his fingers along her cheek, caressing her jaw and chin before working his hand into her golden hair.

  “Blake,” Ginny whispered, turning her head and planting a soft kiss to his wrist. That simple touch ignited a roaring fire in him that made him want to do much more than give Ginny just a kiss or two.

  Groaning, he picked her up and set her across his lap, lowering his mouth and kissing her deeply with an eager intensity. Yanking off his other glove, he somehow managed to pull all the pins from her hair without breaking the heated blending of their lips.

  Lifting his head, he drank in the sight of her glorious wild locks falling down her back and across her shoulders. Capturing her mouth again, he stole both her breath and her resolve to stay away from him.

  Stopping to draw in a lungful of air, Blake buried his face in her curls, memorizing the texture of her tresses, the silky feel of the strands, the floral scent that ensnared his senses. He’d loved her hair when they were younger and the fascination seemed to have intensified with age. Right now, soft tendrils of light floated through the trees, highlighting sections of her hair until it looked like liquid g
old.

  Ensnaring Ginny with another kiss, he drew her even closer against his chest, wishing nothing would ever come between them again.

  She shifted and a hard lump in her pocket pushed against his thigh.

  “What’s in your pocket, Genevieve? I’ve felt it there before.” Blake wondered what Ginny carried around with her. He’d noticed her nervously rubbing her hand over something in her pocket numerous times. When he kissed her the other day, he could feel a small lump pressing against him and was curious as to what it could be.

  “Something special,” Ginny said, blushing as she pulled his face down to hers for another kiss, doing her best to distract him.

  “Let’s see it then,” Blake said, letting her sidetrack him as her lips grazed his jaw before returning to his questions. “Please, I want to see what it is that’s special to you.”

  Ginny shook her head, burying her face against his neck. Blake groaned to keep his self-control with her breath blowing warm and tempting across his neck, sending his temperature soaring regardless of the chill in the air.

  “Come on, love, let me see,” Blake said, lifting her chin with his finger and kissing her softly, hoping to coax her into showing him her treasure.

  Ginny stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out something that she kept tightly clenched in her fist. “I’ve had this for almost ten years and I take it everywhere with me. It’s my most precious possession.”

  Blake kissed her fingers and she slowly opened her hand. Feeling the air whoosh out of his lungs, he grabbed the carved wooden heart and ran his finger across the smooth wood.

  Tied on a frayed red ribbon, Blake held it up in the afternoon light, recognizing every detail of the Christmas token he made for Ginny and gave to her the day she left town. It was a symbol of his love for the girl. He’d literally given his heart into her keeping that day.

  If it was her most precious possession then why had she ignored him for the last decade?

  Staring at her in confusion, Ginny smiled and took the heart from his hand, holding it by the ribbon on one delicate finger.

  “Do you remember the day you gave this to me?” she asked, recalling every detail from that afternoon when Blake gave her the heart. She could remember the color of his shirt, how he’d ridden into town bareback, in a hurry to catch her before she could leave. He smelled of horses and wood and uniquely him. That scent had stayed in her memory every bit as much as the heart had stayed in her pocket.

  Blake nodded his head, reliving the emotion of that day. He recalled thinking if Ginny had cut open his chest and removed his heart, it couldn’t have been any more painful than watching her leave on the stage. She leaned out the window and waved at him until the road carried her over the hill and out of sight.

  “You were so polite, bowing to my parents and asking permission to speak with me for a moment before we boarded the stage. Then you dragged me behind the livery and handed this to me,” Ginny said, staring at the heart wistfully. “You told me that you were giving me your heart for safekeeping until we could be together again. You said…” Ginny’s voice cracked. “You said you… loved me.”

  “I did, Ginny. I loved you with all the love a boy of seventeen has to give. It almost killed me when you left. I wanted, more than anything, for you to stay,” Blake said, staring at the heart and the woman holding it. Suddenly, he needed answers to the questions he’d waited so long to ask. “Why, Ginny? Why did you send back my letters unopened? Couldn’t you at least have possessed the decency to tell me you’d met someone new, or that you were no longer interested? It would have been better to hear that than know you cared so little, you didn’t even open my letters.”

  “What letters?” Ginny asked, sitting up and looking at Blake with a narrowed gaze. She would have devoured even the briefest of notes from him, had he bothered to send any. Crying herself to sleep for months, she missed him more than she’d ever imagined it possible to miss another human, but when weeks turned into months, she realized all she had left of Blake was the little wooden heart he’d given her. A simple token that seemed heartfelt at the time he pressed it into her hand.

  “I wrote you once a week for months. I never heard a word back from you. Then that following summer after you left, I received a box with all my letters neatly tucked inside. They’d never been opened,” Blake said, setting Ginny back on the log, his amorous mood effectively cooled by their discussion.

  All the pain and despair he felt then returned with a vengeance. The distance of her being in New York and him in Hardman had never been a concern. It was the fact that her mother thought he was unworthy and Ginny seemed to agree with Dora.

  “I never received your letters, Blake. Not a one,” Ginny said, dumbfounded. “And you never answered mine.”

  “Because you never wrote any,” Blake said, getting to his feet and pacing back and forth along the creek bank. “Don’t pretend you did, Ginny, just to save my feelings. I’m long past that. What I can’t figure out is why you kept that ridiculous heart. I didn’t mean anything to you, so why keep it? Why lie and say it’s your most ‘precious possession?’”

  Ginny stared at Blake, unable to speak. How could he possibly think she’d never had any feelings for him, that she didn’t still have feelings for him? She’d loved him completely. Instead of fading, the years had only intensified the love she felt for him. If she’d had any doubt of it, seeing him again, being held in his arms, had made that point undeniably clear.

  “How dare you?” Ginny huffed, jumping to her feet and grabbing Blake’s arm, forcing him to look at her. “How dare you accuse me of lying about something that meant so much to me!”

  “Is that why you took my heart with promises to write, to return to me as soon as your parents would allow, and I never heard from you again? Ten years is a long time, Ginny,” Blake said, removing his hat and running his hand through his thick brown hair. “It’s a long time to wait and wonder, to hope and wish, only to realize you never cared at all.”

  “Blake, why do you think I kept the heart all this time? Why do you think I take it everywhere with me?” Ginny asked, desperate to make him understand what she felt for him, what she’d always felt for him.

  “How would I know?” Blake asked, defensive and brooding. “Why don’t you explain it to me? Maybe then I’ll understand why you took my heart with a promise to love me then tossed it away without so much as a single word of explanation.”

  Hurt and angry, Ginny lost the tenuous hold she had on her temper. Slapping Blake across the cheek, she stamped her foot and waved the wooden heart in his face.

  “How could I love someone with such a thick head? You’re an impossible, completely infuriating boy who never grew up!” Ginny took a step back and grabbed his hand, dropping the token that stood for their love into his palm.

  “You wanted your heart back? Is that the problem? Well, here you go. It’s yours to give to whomever you like because I certainly won’t need it any longer.”

  Ginny began marching indignantly toward the house. Blake looked from the heart in his hand to Ginny’s retreating form and wondered what had just possessed him to push her into such a fit of fury.

  “Ginny, wait,” he said, rushing to catch up to her. When she kept marching, he grabbed her arm to stop her. “I’m sorry. Please, let’s talk this out.”

  “I’m completely through speaking with you, Mr. Stratton. There isn’t anything further I wish to say to you now or in the future, other than goodbye.” Ginny picked up her skirts and ran toward the house.

  Tears rained down her cheeks, but she blindly ran on, stumbling twice and catching herself before she fell to her knees. She hoped Blake would catch her, take her in his arms, tell her he was sorry and everything would be fine.

  Instead, she rushed to the house, knowing he stood watching, letting her leave like he had all those years ago.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ginny, I was hoping to catch up to you today.”

  Turning, Ginn
y smiled at Abby Dodd as the woman hurried up to her carrying Erin on one slim hip.

  “How are you today, Abby?” Ginny asked, taking Erin when the little girl held out her arms and smiled.

  “I’m fine, but so busy with Christmas just a few weeks away. Between people wanting new dresses, duties at the church and the children’s Christmas program, I’m feeling stretched a little thin these days,” Abby said, taking Erin back when the child tried to yank the lovely plume off Ginny’s best hat.

  Although the sun was shining, the air was bitterly cold as they stood on the boardwalk in front of Abby’s store.

  “Do you have a moment to come in?” Abby asked, quickly unlocking the door and motioning Ginny inside.

  “Certainly,” Ginny said, walking in the store and admiring Abby’s beautiful displays. The shop carried everything a well-dressed lady could need or want to feel fashionable. Ginny was quite surprised Abby was able to stay up on current fashions, buried as she was in the middle of nowhere.

  Fingering a beautiful pale blue silk gown, Ginny turned to see Abby watching her.

  “That color would look stunning on you with your hair and complexion,” Abby said, moving to take the dress out of the display for Ginny to try on.

  “Thank you, Abby, but I’ll not be trying on dresses today, no matter how pretty they are,” Ginny said, fingering the silk one last time before turning her attention to where Erin played with a box full of toys in a sunny corner. “Now, about what did you wish to speak with me?”

  “I know you’re working part-time at the paper, but I was truly hoping you’d have some time to help me with the children’s Christmas program. I’ve got the costumes made, but I need some help with the practices. Luke mentioned that you have some experience with plays and thought you might enjoy it.”

  “Oh, well… I… um…” Ginny didn’t know the first thing about running a children’s church program but she had participated in a few plays during her school years and goodness knew she’d attended more than her share of incredible performances all around the world. She did have spare time on her hands, more than she knew how to fill.