Mr. Cottingham closed the book he was reading and set it aside. “There’s no need to hang your head like that, Samuel. None at all. You saved our lives. You brought us to the safety of this house.”
“But there’s no accounting for the way I behaved tonight.”
“I don’t believe that’s entirely true.” Mr. Cottingham said matter-of-factly.
That wasn’t the response Samuel expected. He frowned at the older gentlemen. “What did you say?”
“I said, I believe there’s good reason why you behaved the way you did. After all, you brought us back to your house, to the very house I assume you were running away from. You fed us. Kept us warm. And I suspect we broke something precious to you. Actually, I suspect your anger stemmed from more than that, but we won’t get into that part of it now.”
“You know?” He gaped at Mr. Cottingham. “But how?”
“I’ve known since the first night we arrived. My bones were aching and I couldn’t sleep well, and—”
“That was before I started making him a cup of ginger tea at night.” Miss Vivian smiled.
“It definitely was, Viv.” Mr. Cottingham returned her smile before turning to Samuel again. “Anyway, I thought reading Psalms would help me relax, so I slipped down here, remembering that I’d seen the Bible on the table there.” He nodded across the room.
Samuel shook his head in disbelief. “And you saw the inscription. You saw that my parents had given the Bible to Theresa and me on our wedding day.”
“I did read that.” Mr. Cottingham nodded solemnly. “And sadly, I also saw on the family register page that your wife wasn’t on this earth any longer.”
“Yes, we, uh …” Samuel paused, cleared his throat. “We’d only been married two years before she died. It was three years ago on this very day,” he said quietly. There, he’d said it. And wondered why he’d made so many excuses about sharing the truth before this. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
“I figured it was your business, Samuel. Something to be told when you were ready.”
“He only told us a few minutes ago,” Molly said softly. “And only because he wanted us to understand why you were so upset about the angels. Oh, Samuel, I wish you’d said something. I’m guessing they were your wife’s?”
“They belonged to Theresa’s grandmother. We used to get them out every year on Christmas Eve.”
“I’m so sorry.” She looked down at her lap. “Very sorry.”
“No one could’ve known. It was my fault. I should’ve told the truth.”
“Samuel,” Miss Vivian spoke up, “when we were still strangers, you offered us your hospitality. You shared everything you had with us. You didn’t owe us an explanation, too. But young man,” she said, sternly but lovingly, “we’re not strangers any longer.”
“That’s right.” Mr. Cottingham got up, cane in hand, and strode toward him. Samuel felt the well-meaning clasp of friendship when the man touched his shoulder. “And since that’s true, I feel like I can tell you this. Son, there’s no easy way around loss. It takes time. Faith. And believing that God knows you’re hurting and believing that He’ll see you through.”
“Actually, this Christmas I’ve … I’m starting to believe that again,” he admitted.
“Well, good.” Mr. Cottingham patted his shoulder. “And Vivian is right. You’ve been more than generous, sharing all you have with us. But since the weather has warmed up, maybe it’s best for us to be on our way in the morning.”
Well, of course. Why would they care to stay? They probably felt like they had to tiptoe around him now. Afraid he’d lose his temper again.
“I think that makes sense,” he agreed regretfully.
He gave Molly one more glance, trying to memorize the face of the woman who had opened up his closed-off heart. He’d never laugh with her again. Or be captivated by her again. She belonged to another man. Everything in him felt heavy with the realization, but he cared for her too much not to respect that.
“I need to get dry things from upstairs,” he told everyone. “Then I’ll be sleeping in the barn tonight.”
“Oh, Samuel, that’s not necessary,” Miss Vivian said.
“It’d be better if I do. I’ll feed the horses before you all leave in the morning.”
Even though it wasn’t her turn, Molly offered to take the pallet on the bedroom floor and let Miss Vivian and Charlotte share the bed for the night. After all that had happened that evening, she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping anyway.
Hour after hour, she lay in the dim room, her heart aching beyond belief. Though Samuel wasn’t so far away—only across the yard in the barn—it felt as if each passing minute expanded the distance between them. She had wanted to explain everything to him, but he seemed to want to be as far from her as he could. He probably thought she was a liar. Or that she didn’t know her own feelings. But oh, she did! She had ever since she met him.
She stared at her velvet dress hanging in the corner, hoping it would quell her sadness. Just looking at it helped to bring Samuel close again.
She hadn’t imagined it, had she? The way he’d looked at her in the dress? And told her she was beautiful?
She hadn’t imagined it later, when he touched her hair? As if it was the most natural thing to do? As if the two of them were simply meant to be?
The thought jolted her. She sat up, her heart beating wildly. It was true. They were meant to be. They’d both lost the person they’d been closest to. They’d each decided to run from the hurt and the past. But along their paths, they’d found each other. She couldn’t just let him go.
Jumping up from the mat, she shook Miss Vivian’s shoulder. “Please wake up. I have an idea,” she said excitedly. “Will you help me?”
Chapter 12
The first hints of dawn were coming to light as Molly set out across Samuel’s lawn with everyone else in tow. Leading the caravan, she felt a smile as wide as the Missouri sky settle on her face, although inside she couldn’t have felt more nervous. She was aiming to make this Christmas one Samuel would never forget. And if her wish came true, she hoped it would be just the start of more Christmases together.
As each of them tiptoed into the barn, she spied Samuel across the way. He was still asleep, curled up on a bed of hay he’d made outside of Tack’s stall. The red blanket they’d shared on the stagecoach covered him, along with several other warm layers.
Her heart beat erratically as she shuffled through the straw until she was bending down, staring at his handsome profile. “Samuel,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond.
“Samuel,” she said a bit louder.
His eyelids slowly opened, and he looked at her. “Molly?”
She was thankful when his lips immediately spread into a fond, loving smile. It was all the proof she needed that she’d been right to do this. To come to him.
“Merry Christmas,” she said.
He sat up and rubbed his face. But then as if remembering a bad dream, his expression clouded. “It’s Christmas morning?” He got to his feet. “You’re leaving?”
“Actually, we came bearing gifts. Everyone wants to thank you for your hospitality.”
In the center of the barn, Charlotte and Miss Vivian had laid out a blanket where everyone was starting to sit down. Molly stepped to his side and let them explain on their own.
“We brought you fresh biscuits and marmalade,” Charlotte told him.
“And your coffee just the way you like it with a sprinkle of cinnamon.” Miss Vivian smiled.
“I have a book I’d like to give you, Samuel,” Mr. Cottingham said. “I hope you’ll accept it with my gratitude.”
“And I’m offering the gift of my banjo playing this Christmas morning,” Daniel said, placing the instrument on his knees. “I’m open to requests.” He grinned.
Molly watched Samuel’s expression change with each person’s gift, his features going from troubled to touched.
“Melissa
has something for you, too,” she told him. “Melissa?”
The little girl bounced up and handed Samuel a piece of paper. “This way they can always be with you,” she said.
Molly knew sure as anything Samuel would be incredibly moved by Melissa’s gift. “A picture of two angels,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “This is the best gift, Melissa.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll keep this always.”
Giving him a moment to collect himself, Molly spoke up, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her extreme nervousness. “And now it’s my turn.”
“Your turn?” He shook his head. “Molly, you’ve already given me more than you know. I don’t need a present from you.”
“That’s good, because I don’t exactly have one.” She looked into his eyes. “Except for me. I only have myself to give.”
“Only … what? Yourself?” Puzzled, his brows furrowed inward. “I don’t understand. You’re not going to Huxley?”
“She’s going to be staying with us in St. Claire,” Miss Vivian spoke up. “We can use her help at my sister’s eatery.”
“Is that true?” He turned back to her.
She nodded. “Being around you … Samuel, now I know the difference between real love and empty paper promises.”
“And the other man?”
“There’s only you, Samuel,” she said in a rush then bit her lip. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
Oh, she felt so bold! But once again it seemed life’s circumstances had her acting that way. No doubt, her feelings for Samuel were worth risking all of her pride for. But even for all of her audacity, she couldn’t breathe. It was as if everything inside her had stopped working while she waited for his answer.
Finally, he spoke. “Molly, it took me awhile to admit it to myself, but the minute I met you I couldn’t say no to you. And I don’t want to ever say no to you—not for the rest of my life.”
“Isn’t it amazing how you don’t have to travel far to find your heart a home?” Miss Vivian said gleefully.
“Yes, Viv.” Mr. Cottingham chuckled, patting her hand. “Amazing how sometimes God’s leading takes us right back to where we started.”
Molly had been so fixed on Samuel, she’d nearly the forgotten the others were sitting there, waiting for them. Apparently Samuel had, too.
“Would you excuse us for a moment, please?” he said.
With everyone’s blessing, he led her over to a corner of the barn. The morning sun was streaming through the slats of wood, allowing her to see every sparkle of longing in his eyes. “What is it, Samuel?” she asked breathlessly.
“This …”
With his tender touch, he lifted her chin and brushed his cheek against hers. Then slowly, gently, his lips found hers. A delightful shiver ran through her as she drank in the sweetness of his kiss. It was like nothing she’d ever felt or ever known, bringing tears of happiness to her eyes. He seemed to know just what she was feeling as he pulled back from her and wiped a droplet from her cheek.
“Merry first Christmas, my Molly,” he whispered.
She looked up at him, her heart so full she couldn’t speak. She could only give thanks that her wishes and prayers had been answered at last.
Forging a Family
by Vickie McDonough
Chapter 1
Advent, Texas
1890
Rain pelted the windows of the tiny depot packed full of grumbling passengers who had disembarked the train when it made its unscheduled stop in Advent. Beth shivered and hugged four-year-old Lizzie against her cloak. The weather felt more like what she’d experienced growing up in New York than what she expected to find in Texas. She jumped as an angry slash of lightning skittered across the sky, casting its ethereal glow over the crowded room.
Poppa was out there. She prayed he found them accommodations for tonight—somewhere warm with a place to bathe.
“Miss Ruskin, I’m hungry.” Lizzie pushed her spectacles up her nose and gazed at her with tired blue eyes.
She smiled down at her ward. “There’s still a biscuit and a piece of cheese in my basket. Would you like that?”
Lizzie nodded and yawned.
The confined space of the tiny depot made Beth feel like a sardine in a can her father once purchased. After he’d rolled off the tin top with an odd key, she discovered the little fish lined up side-by-side. She squirmed sideways and lifted her basket, pressing it against the wall to hold it in place. She felt around inside and managed to locate the biscuit. As she handed it to Lizzie, the door opened and several men dressed in dripping wet dusters stepped in. A cold chill rushed in with them.
“There’s a boardinghouse,” one man said as he searched the crowd.
“Over here, Henry.” His wife waved at him from near the back. “Excuse me. Please let me pass. That’s my husband.” She squeezed her way through, followed by a pair of children.
Two other women, one with a toddler, joined their spouses, and they all left. The crowd shifted, and Beth breathed deeply for the first time in a long while. She wished her father would hurry. It was way past Lizzie’s bedtime.
“Your daughter is precious,” the woman beside her said. “She must take after her father.”
Beth smiled. “Actually, I’m an agent with the Children’s Aid Society.”
“Oh, forgive me for being presumptuous. I’ve heard of the Orphan Train.”
Beth nodded and glanced back at the windows, still battered by the rain. “I have appointments to meet several families in the next town, and I fear if this storm continues, it will delay us so long that we’ll miss them.” She brushed her hand over Lizzie’s blond head, and the blue-eyed girl glanced up and smiled. She’d been unable to place the sweet child simply because she wore spectacles, but Beth had hopes that just the right family would be found.
“Maybe the storm will pass overnight and we’ll be able to get out by morning.”
“That would be nice.”
The door flew open, and a man rushed in. Water ran in a rivulet down the brim of his hat and sloshed onto the floor. The nearest woman gasped and jumped back.
Beth nearly giggled. Considering the downpour outside, they’d all be drenched before they made it a few feet.
“I’ve found three families willing to take in one person for the night, so if you’re traveling alone, please step forward.”
“Oh! Excuse me.” The woman she’d chatted with pressed forward, followed by a thin man in a brown tweed frock coat and another in a black duster.
The trio left with the tall man.
“When are we leaving?” Lizzie asked.
Beth bent and wiped the crumbs off her mouth. “Soon, sweetie.”
“Advent is a small town,” a portly woman to her left said. “They aren’t likely to find room for all of us.”
Beth fished out the piece of cheese, unwrapped it, and gave it to Lizzie, wishing she had a bowl of hot soup to warm them both. The depot—probably no larger than ten feet square—didn’t even have a stove.
Grumbles echoed around the room, making her uncomfortable. She tried never to complain. Having a father who was a doctor meant interruptions any time day or night. She’d gotten used to being flexible, and when she found herself lonely with him gone so much, she’d started working part-time at the orphanage near their home.
Ten minutes passed, and a woman sitting on one of the few benches caught her eye and waved. “Why don’t you and your daughter come and sit for a while? She looks ready to drop.”
“Are you sure?”
The pretty brunette nodded. “We’ve been sitting all day. I don’t mind standing for a while.” The woman rose.
Beth guided Lizzie to the bench and dropped onto it then lifted the child onto her lap. Lizzie cuddled against her, relaxed immediately, and closed her eyes. Beth glanced up and smiled at the kind woman. “Thank you.”
Beth rested her head against Lizzie’s and had almost fallen asleep herself when the door rattled open again and he
r soaking wet father stepped in and searched for her.
“Over here, Poppa.”
He hurried to her side, looking worried. He lifted Lizzie into his arms and gazed around at the remaining people. “I’m sorry to tell you, but the boardinghouse is full. I don’t believe there are any more people willing to share their homes either. Unfortunately, this is quite a small town. I’ve procured use of an empty building for the night, and the mercantile owner has been kind enough to open up should any of you wish to purchase food, blankets, or other supplies. I suggest you follow me unless you prefer to spend the night here.”
More grumbling ensued as nearly a dozen passengers left the small building with them. Beth covered her head with her hood, thankful that the rain had slowed, but there was still the mud to deal with. By the time they’d reached their location several blocks from the depot, her legs ached and her skirt and cloak were soaked.
Her father set Lizzie on the boardwalk and pushed open the door to an empty building, which was illuminated only by a pair of lanterns hanging on wall hooks. Her heart plummeted. There’d be no bath tonight—and no bed either. There was nothing but a couple of blankets and a small crate near the stove, but at least the room was warmer than the depot.
Her poppa made a beeline for the back wall. “I’ve already purchased some things at the store, Beth, and claimed a spot near the stove so you and the girl should be warm.”
She was grateful for his efforts, but she wished he’d quit referring to Lizzie as “the girl.” She was a sweet child who deserved a good home, but Beth’s father had not been happy when she requested that their trip west to settle in the Arizona Territory include a number of stops to take orphans to new families. She knew he was anxious to arrive in their new home, but she still wished he had more patience with little ones.
With Lizzie asleep and wrapped in her blanket, Beth and several other women took turns changing into dry clothing behind a blanket they held up in one of the back corners of the room. She finally settled onto the hard floor and looked around then ate the remaining peaches in a can shared with Poppa. Families and individuals had spread out and claimed their own places for the night. Lightning flashed, drawing her gaze to the big windows at the front of the building. She prayed the rain would end and they could leave tomorrow. Prayed that God would direct her to just the right family for Lizzie.
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