“So he does.”
“You my aunt, too?” Erin asked, trying to figure out how everyone fit into her little world.
“I suppose so, since I’m Luke’s sister. Would you like to call me Aunt Ginny?”
“Yep. You Aunt Ginny and him Unca Bake.” Erin pointed across the street where Blake exited the mercantile.
Rather than correct the child, Ginny swung her up into her arms and hastened on toward the church. The last thing she needed today was another encounter with the teasing, good-looking carpenter.
Tapping on the back door of the parsonage, Ginny opened it and set Erin down. Abby was wearing her hat and only had one arm out of her coat sleeve when they walked in, but bent to take the little girl in her arms, lavishing her with hugs and kisses.
“Were you a good girl for Aunt Filly today?” Abby asked, as she set Erin down and quickly finished removing her coat and hat while Ginny started removing Erin’s many layers.
“I good, Mama. I hep Aunt Fiwwy make cookies.”
“You did?” Abby said, smiling at her child. “Were they good?”
“Yep. I ated this many,” Erin said, holding up two fingers.
“My goodness,” Abby said, hugging Erin then setting her down. “Did you save room for your supper?”
“Yep, got’s room,” Erin said, sticking out her tummy and patting it.
Just then, the sound of the front door opening floated to the kitchen along with Chauncy’s cheerful greeting. Erin scampered down the hall to her father and Ginny shook her head at Abby.
“I’ll thank you and Pastor Dodd to not attempt further matchmaking efforts on my behalf,” Ginny said, trying to look stern.
“Us? Why, dear girl, whatever are you talking about?” Abby said, attempting to feign innocence.
“You know what I’m talking about. You two should be ashamed of yourselves, using the children’s Christmas program as a ploy to throw me together with Blake. It’s shameful!” Ginny said, not nearly as upset as she let Abby think she was. “Unless you want me to leave you to run that program yourself, you and Chauncy better squelch any romantic notions you’re contemplating regarding Blake and I.”
“What’s all the jabbering going on in here?” Chauncy asked as he stepped in the room carrying Erin on his shoulders.
“I was telling your wife I’m onto you both and I won’t tolerate further interference in my romantic inclinations, or lack thereof,” Ginny said, narrowing her gaze at Chauncy when he stood looking at her with a ridiculous grin on his face.
“To paraphrase, you’re telling us to mind our own business. Is that it?” he asked, setting Erin in her high chair and giving her a cracker to nibble.
“Exactly,” Ginny said, yanking her gloves back on and turning toward the door.
“You know, that’s kind of funny,” Chauncy said, causing her to glance over her shoulder at him. “Blake just told me the same thing.”
“Humph!” Ginny said, marching out the door and pulling it shut behind her. The thought of Blake going to Chauncy and telling him he didn’t appreciate having to work with her made her angry, especially after his childish behavior.
What kind of man licked a woman on the cheek, anyway? It was utter nonsense.
Forgetting the dog followed her to the parsonage, she jumped when he brushed against her leg as she waited for a wagon to pass so she could cross the street.
“Bart, you lunkhead,” Ginny scolded the dog. When he sat staring at her with a pitiful look on his face, she rolled her eyes and rubbed her hand over his back then gave him a brief scratch behind his ears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Now, let’s go home.”
The dog barked and ran around her as they finished the walk home. Bart ran to his house and slurped noisily from a bowl of water while Ginny tried to wipe off the snow clinging to her boots before going in the back door.
“There you are,” Filly said with a smile as Ginny removed her gloves and coat then hung up her hat. “We’re just about ready to eat. After you wash up, would you mind telling Luke supper’s ready. He’s in the library.”
“Certainly,” Ginny said, going to the bathroom to wash her hands. Taking a few steps down the hall when she finished, she stuck her head around the library door and saw Luke at his desk, his attention locked on the account book in front of him. “Time for dinner, brother dear.”
“Thanks, Ginny. I’ll be right there,” Luke said, finishing writing a number in the book then standing from the desk. He was dressed in work pants and a wool shirt with scuffed boots on his feet.
Tall like their father, Ginny thought Luke very handsome, even if he was a bothersome, sometimes overbearing older brother.
“What does mother think of your western attire when she visits?” Ginny asked, pointing to his denim pants.
“She rolls her eyes and makes a fuss, but then I offer to let her do the chores and it shuts her right up, every time.”
Ginny laughed as they walked in the kitchen. Luke kissed Filly’s cheek and seated her at the table before taking his chair.
Enjoying a tender beef roast with mashed potatoes and gravy, Luke was in a jovial mood as they sat visiting after the meal was over.
“I need to go finish the chores,” Luke said, standing and reaching for his hat and coat.
“Before you do, I wanted to ask if you’d both have some time to spare on Saturday.” Ginny carried dirty plates to the sink, casting a glance at her brother.
“What do you need, Ginny Lou?” Luke asked, buttoning his chore coat and fishing in his pocket for his leather work gloves.
“Chauncy asked Blake to help with the Christmas program and he’s making a few props. He thought if we all worked on it Saturday, we should be able to get most of them finished,” Ginny said, still aggravated the pastor and Abby tried to force her and Blake to spend time together, even if they were chaperoned by two dozen children.
“We’d be happy to help,” Filly said, looking to Luke for agreement.
He nodded his head and opened the back door. “Tell Blake we’ll bring lunch.”
“Thank you,” Ginny called as Luke shut the door behind him. “Blake offered to cook, but I was hoping we could take food.”
“I’ll put together a picnic lunch. How does that sound?” Filly asked, giving Ginny a quick hug around her shoulders as they finished clearing the table and started working on the dishes.
“That would be wonderful. I thought I’d take my paint supplies, that way I’d have them on hand in case we want to paint a scene, or anything.”
“I’ve seen some of your artwork, Ginny. You’re quite talented.”
Ginny blushed, pleased by the compliment. She’d always loved to draw and paint, but never gave it much thought. She just did it for fun. “Thank you. I wouldn’t go so far to say there is any talent involved in what I do, but it gives me pleasure. Mr. Daily printed a few of my drawings to go along with my articles.”
“I noticed that. The drawing you did of the new church pews was especially nice. Oh, and the one of Mrs. Ferguson’s missing cat.”
“That cat,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “Did you hear he got stuck in the LaRoux’s coal chute? That’s where he was all that time.”
“I bet he was a dirty little thing when Mrs. Ferguson finally got him home,” Filly said with a laugh, picturing the bedraggled feline. Bringing the conversation back around to the church program, she asked Ginny about the practice.
“Percy wanted to be the innkeeper but he can’t seem to leave the poor little Jenkins girl alone,” Ginny said, drying plates and putting them away. She wasn’t looking forward to hearing a lecture from her mother about her work-reddened hands.
Initially, she was mad and insulted when Luke insisted she help around the house. She quickly learned she enjoyed visiting with Filly while they did the dinner dishes and tidied the house, even if she didn’t enjoy the work. At least now, she knew how to wash clothes, keep a floor clean, and a sink shiny. Even if her cooking skil
ls hadn’t improved greatly, Filly taught her to make a few very basic things. If she ever had to take care of herself, at least Ginny thought she wouldn’t starve.
“That’s because he likes her,” Filly said with a knowing smile. “You should have seen him the year Erin was born. Percy played Joseph and Anna Jenkins played Mary. They were adorable.”
“I’m sure they were, but if Percy doesn’t quit pulling on her braid, the poor child will be bald. It’s just wrong for the angel in the program to constantly be in tears,” Ginny said, wondering if the Bruner boy could behave himself at least during the program.
“Have Blake speak with him. I’m sure he’ll listen,” Filly suggested, wiping off the table and rinsing out the rag.
“I guess we can try, otherwise, I’m not sure what we’ll do,” Ginny said, thinking the children all seemed to like Blake. As good as he was with them, she wondered where he’d gotten any experience. Then again, he and Erin seemed quite fond of one another. Either that, or he was just naturally gifted in relating to them.
Recalling his boyish lick to her cheek, she decided maybe it was his ability to relate to them so well, since he could act entirely childish when the mood struck.
“Is there anything else we need to take to Blake’s Saturday?” Filly asked, drawing her from her musings.
“No. He’ll have all the tools and supplies necessary, I’m sure.”
“Are you comfortable working with Blake on this? If not, I could talk to Abby about filling in or finding someone else,” Filly said, knowing Ginny and Blake were trying to avoid each other. Secretly, though, she thought Abby and Chauncy quite clever to throw the two stubborn people together. Someone had to do something or those two would never make up and move forward with their relationship.
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. We are, after all, adults and as such, capable of putting aside our differences for the good of the children and the Christmas program,” Ginny stated, trying to convince herself as well as Filly.
“Not only that, but I’m sure it isn’t much of a hardship to have to spend extra time with that very nice-looking man right beside you,” Filly said, then rushed out of the kitchen before Ginny could throw a soggy dishtowel at her.
Chapter Twelve
“You do amazing work, Ginny,” Blake said, admiring the scene Ginny painted of a star glowing through a dark blue night sky. They could use it for both the shepherds and the wise men portion of the program. He noticed a few of her sketches in Ed’s paper, but had no idea she could paint.
Recalling how much she liked to draw when they were younger, her talents didn’t come as a surprise. Stepping beside her, he looked over a more detailed scene she’d finished earlier, impressed by her efforts.
Ginny set down the brush in her hand and studied her work, unsettled by Blake’s nearness, by his scent permeating her senses and rendering her witless.
While Luke and Blake built a manger and a few other props, she and Filly worked on painting scenes. This was the last one. Filly filled in the large areas with color while Ginny added the details. The four of them made a good team.
Except now, one member of that team was making Ginny’s stomach flutter nervously and her hand tremble.
“Thank you. It’s something I enjoy,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag. There was no way she could paint anything with him standing so close to her. She needed space, maybe some bracing December air. “Is everyone ready for lunch?”
“I think so. Filly and Luke went in the house to wash up and set out the food. I told them we’d be right there,” Blake said, fighting the urge to pull Ginny into his arms and kiss her repeatedly. Her lips looked so soft and lush, he wanted to see if they tasted as delectable as he remembered.
Lifting a finger, he toyed with a stray curl near her cheek, rubbing the silky strands between his fingers. Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed hard before looking at him with warmth in her blue gaze.
“Ginny,” he whispered, taking a step closer to her. A smudge of blue paint accented her left cheek and splatters covered the front of the big apron she wore over a plain dark blue dress. She could have been dressed in a flour sack and Blake still would have found her beautiful. Her light fragrance floated around him, drawing him into a place he didn’t know if he was capable of leaving and wasn’t sure he wanted to.
When she continued to stare at him, unmoving, he took out his handkerchief and wiped at her cheek.
“Oh,” she said, in surprise, taking the handkerchief from him and roughly scrubbing her skin. “I didn’t realize I had paint all over me.”
“You don’t. Just a little spot,” he said, retrieving his handkerchief and gently wiping the last of the paint away before kissing her reddened cheek. “No need to rough up something so lovely.”
Blushing at his compliment, Ginny searched for a diversion from her all-consuming interest in Blake. She could feel his warmth soaking into her, even though he stood with several inches between them.
Glancing around, she noticed many of the pieces filling his shop on her previous visit were gone.
“Where did everything go?” she asked, waving her hand around at the large, empty space.
“I sent a shipment to my folks a few weeks ago. Several people have picked up their Christmas orders and the pews are at the church. That emptied much of the space,” he said, looking around, glad to have a little room to work, especially as they constructed the bigger pieces for the Christmas program. Once the paint dried, he’d use the wagon to haul everything to the church.
“Where’s that lovely rocking chair? Don’t tell me it’s gone,” Ginny said, looking around and not seeing it anywhere.
“It’s a Christmas gift,” Blake said, not wanting anything to spoil Luke’s surprise for Filly. When he knew they were coming for the day, he wrapped it in a blanket and hid it in his barn.
Ginny walked around, looking at the beautiful furniture Blake crafted. She knew in addition to that, he could be found putting up a barn wall or doing home repairs, like he had at Granger House. He seemed to be willing to do most any type of wood project.
Glancing at him from beneath her lashes, she studied his firm chin, sculpted mouth, and eyes that shone like windows into his heart. There was no denying he was handsome. Nor could she deny he was a kind, good man. One other people looked to with respect.
“I suppose we better go into lunch or Luke will be vocal in his assumptions about what we’re doing out here,” Ginny said, walking to the door. Blake beat her there, holding it open for her.
“If we run fast, we shouldn’t get too chilled before we reach the house,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her across the yard into the warmth of his home.
Filly and Luke looked up from where they were setting food on the table and grinned.
“There you two are,” Filly said, giving Ginny a knowing look. “If you wash up, I think we’re ready for lunch.”
“Everything looks wonderful, Filly,” Blake said, pumping the handle at the sink for Ginny to wash her hands. Although she was used to the finely appointed Granger House, things were a little more primitive at the Stratton household.
Washing his hands, he seated Ginny at the table, offered thanks for the meal and looked around the table expectantly. Fried chicken, potato salad, pickles, baked beans, biscuits, and canned peaches made him think of summer.
“Ginny and I thought a picnic lunch would be fun. Since it’s too cold to eat outside, we can at least enjoy a picnic meal,” Filly said, passing the butter and jam to Luke to go along with his biscuit.
“This is perfect,” Blake said, looking forward to sampling the food before him. He’d yet to eat anything Filly made that wasn’t delicious. Luke was a very lucky man.
Thinking about Ginny and her inability to cook, he realized whoever won her hand had better be prepared to do the cooking or resigned to eating in town. Stifling a laugh at the image of Ginny standing in his kitchen trying to make biscuits, he grinned as he passed her the platter of chi
cken.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, wondering what made him look so happy.
“You,” he said, then took a bite of his chicken. The crispy skin, cooked to golden brown perfection, was even tastier than he anticipated.
Ginny and Filly carried most of the conversation while he and Luke enjoyed the meal. Filly brought out a pie for dessert and Blake was glad he hadn’t eaten the last piece of chicken. If he had, there’d be no room in his belly for the sweet treat.
He and Luke talked about crops and cattle, comparing prices from America to England on a variety of topics as they ate dessert.
Ginny and Filly started washing the dishes while the men finished their coffee. Looking over at her sister-in-law, Ginny watched Filly clutch the edge of the sink in a white-knuckled grip.
“Filly, are you felling well? Your face is so pale,” Ginny said quietly. Grabbing a dishtowel, she quickly dried her hands and placed her palm to Filly’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”
“I’m just a little light-headed,” Filly said, swaying slightly on her feet.
Turning to the men, Ginny flapped her hand at Luke, getting his attention, while keeping the other arm wrapped around her sister-in-law.
“Something’s wrong with Filly,” she said, trying to steady her. Filly was so much taller, Ginny struggled to stay upright with the added weight against her petite frame.
Luke and Blake both rushed over. Luke wrapped his arms around Filly and she leaned against him, taking shallow breaths.
“What’s wrong, darlin’? Does something hurt?” Luke asked, his voice revealing his worry and concern every bit as much as the look on his face.
“Nothing hurts. I just feel dizzy and a little queasy,” Filly said, closing her eyes as she leaned into Luke’s strength. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”
“Has this happened before?” Luke asked, wondering what was wrong with his wife. His mind flew to a dozen scenarios, all ending with some tragic diagnosis.
“A time or two,” Filly said, opening her eyes and looking at Luke. “It will pass in a minute.”
The Christmas Token Page 13
