These were scarcely sent when gifts began to arrive from the crew. Henry Lowen sent a crate of winesap apples and a note hoping that Meg could walk again. He also announced his marriage to Anna and said he hoped to make the summer threshing run with the MacLeods. Baldy Tennant’s gift to Hallie, Meg, and Jackie was a big box of Hershey’s almond bars with a card that read DO OPEN BEFORE CHRISTMAS! From Buford Redding came a thousand-piece jigsaw-puzzle map of the world. Large packages from Rich Mondell and Jim Wyatt contained brightly wrapped individual gifts for the children and Hallie.
“These should go under the tree,” said Hallie, pleased and touched at being remembered by the men. “Do you put up a Christmas tree, Meg?”
“No. We just put our presents on the table Christmas morning and open them before breakfast.” For once Meg didn’t sound as if the established way was best. She even looked excited. “Could we have a tree? For Jackie?”
“We’ll ask the Donnellys to buy us a little evergreen that we can plant in the yard later,” promised Hallie.
“And some candy canes?” Jackie asked. “Red and white ones?”
“I’ll make a star for the top,” Meg said. “I’ve been saving foil off the Hershey bars.”
“We can string popcorn and cranberries,” added Hallie.
The Donnellys found a pretty little pine tree at the nursery, and Mike carried it into the front room and set it on the apple crate Hallie had covered with red oilcloth. Meg arranged presents artfully to conceal the container. Jackie hung candy canes, and Hallie helped Meg fasten the foil-covered cardboard star on top. The children draped the cranberry and popcorn garlands and picked the best spots for the other foil-covered stars and bells they had made.
“It’s—it’s beautiful!” Meg breathed, settling back in the wheelchair to admire her work. “Oh, I hope Daddy likes it!”
He will as long as he doesn’t think it was my idea, Hallie thought. She said aloud, “Now that we have the men’s addresses, we can send them each a box of candy and nuts—and write thank-you notes for the things that weren’t wrapped.”
A few days later, Jackie puffed down the lane with a parcel that almost filled his wagon. It was from Luke and Mrs. Wells. When the children pulled away the crumpled newspapers, Meg looked puzzled. “Is it part of a tree root?”
Hallie helped lift it out. Rough outer bark had been left on a half-dome—shaped tree growth glued to a slab of rough cedar to form a sort of cavern. It was stuffed with what looked like corn shucks till Meg brought out a figure that stood about five inches high: a madonna. Her body and robe were of shucks but her sweet face was red-brown clay and the long black hair looked human. She held a cornshuck baby. His face, and those of the other figures Jackie was standing on the table, were of the same warm red clay. Joseph had gray hair and so did the crowned Wise Men and one of the shepherds. The dark-haired angels had furled wings of golden straw and harps carved from wood.
The cattle and camels were natural red clay, but the sheep had curly fleece of pale wood shavings, a pair of mules were painted gray, and there was a spotted dog, a cat, and carefully painted great horned owl and several mourning doves. A star with long rays made of straw had a slit carved for it in the roof of the cavern. The cedar-bark manager was full of fragrant hay.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Meg breathed, her eyes shining. “Look, here’s a drawing from Luke on this big cardboard at the bottom! He’s put the whole family on the porch of their log cabin and they’ve signed their names. See, here’s Mrs. Wells—Vinnie—and the children. The older lady next to Luke must be his mother. It says ‘Evelyn Rogers.’”
“Yes, and he’s drawn the dog and cat and mules just like the clay ones!” Jackie squealed. “Can I put the owl and cat on the roof?”
“Sure,” Meg said. “Luke knew we’d want to play with the people and animals; that’s why he made so many of them.” She perched an angel on top of the roof and fixed the star at a graceful angle. “I suppose we’d better keep it in the front room.”
“The sideboard in there would be a good place,” Hallie suggested. “But it’s so cold that if you’re going to be in there long, you’ll need to put on sweaters and leave the door to the kitchen open.”
It took the children the rest of the afternoon to get the manger scene arranged to their satisfaction. Jackie brought in dried grass and thistles to set under and behind the cavern. The shepherds approached from one side and the Wise Men from the other while the Rogers-Wells family smiled from the cardboard propped against the wall.
On the last day of school before Christmas, Donnellys delivered Miss Howell’s pretty two-pound box of caramels and a syrup pail of almonds for the schoolchildren. On their return they brought popcorn balls and for Meg a brocade-covered autograph album from Miss Howell. All the older children had written verses or messages in it and the little ones had printed their names.
Mary Donnelly brought a tray of frosted gingerbread Santas and Christmas trees. These were put up for Christmas Day, but Hallie made hot cocoa and set out bowls of nuts and cookies. To the joyful excitement of Bridgie and Kathleen, Meg and Jackie presented the big colorful tin box of good things which Mary decreed would not be opened till Christmas Eve.
After the Donnellys left in the early dusk, Meg said fretfully, “I wish Daddy would come! What if there’s a blizzard and he has to stay in Texas? I hate his being way off down there!”
“They’ll be here if it’s possible,” Hallie tried to soothe. “You wouldn’t want them traveling if the weather turns bad.”
“I don’t want Daddy traveling at all unless I can be with him,” retorted Meg.
The day before Christmas, the pale sun was dimly visible through lowering clouds. Meg wheeled her chair to the kitchen window and anxiously watched the sky. “It’s snowing!” she wailed when, in early afternoon, a few large flakes wafted to the ground.
“Angels’ pinfeathers,” Hallie said, trying to sound cheerful in spite of the anxiety that gripped her. “Look, the flakes are melting the instant they hit. I think I’ll make a big kettle of onion-potato soup for supper. That’ll be good and fast whatever time the men come.”
She started a fire in the potbellied front-room stove and brought down the presents she had wrapped and kept in her room. Meg’s wristwatch was the smallest gift, but by far the most expensive. Jackie had wrapped the velvet presentation case in gilt paper, and now he proudly placed it on top of all the other gifts.
“You’ll be surprised!” he chanted to Meg. “Will you ever be surprised! Want to guess? Bet you can’t, can’t, can’t!”
“I won’t, won’t, won’t, because you can’t, can’t, can’t keep a secret!” Meg laughed. “Don’t give it away, Jackie. It’s more fun to be surprised. And don’t rattle your presents, goofy! You might break something.”
The soup was bubbling merrily and Hallie was putting bread in the oven when Laird set up a joyful clamor. Meg wheeled swiftly into the kitchen. Jackie shot out the door. Smoky jumped up in the window to peer out.
“Oh, these dratted old crutches!” Meg swung toward the door on them. Hallie threw a coat around the girl and helped her down the steps. Now that it was twilight and colder, the snow fluffs were beginning to accumulate, but it didn’t matter. The men were home safe.
The truck sputtered into the yard. Rory jumped out to open the machine shed door and Garth steered it inside. He was out of the cab in a flash and caught Meg in his arms as she shook loose of Hallie and almost leaped toward him. In the bluish light, Garth looked overwhelmingly tall and strong. Laird bounded around them, barking ecstatically.
Shaft swept Jackie to one shoulder. “Hey, here’s my boy! You been takin’ care of the gals and Smoky?” Smoky meowed plaintively from the steps and Shaft, balancing Jackie, bent to hoist his cat to the other shoulder.
“You’ve grown, too, kitty-cat!” Smoky’s purr vibrated to a rumble as she pressed against her master’s beard and dug in her claws to stay in place. Shaft gave Hallie a half-hug with his fr
ee arm. “Mmm-mm. If you don’t smell like sugar and spice and everything nice! It sure makes it feel like comin’ home, for you to be here, Hallie girl.”
He got his suitcase from beneath the tarp in the backseat and set off for the house. Garth got his suitcase and followed, supporting Meg. That left Rory.
His grin faded as he watched Hallie. “I can’t stand to imagine what it’d be like if you weren’t here, Hallie.”
“Well, I am, so—”
His hands closed on her shoulders. “When I think about you, it’s—different. It’s not just wanting to hold and kiss you, though heaven knows I want that till I ache. It’s like a lamp shining over the plains, clear and bright and warm and wonderful. You—you’re my heart’s home, Hallie. You’re where I can rest.”
This wasn’t the brash, reckless young man she knew who flirted with every pretty girl. “Rory—Rory, don’t!”
He winced and let her go. “I won’t crowd you. But please, Hallie, give me a chance.”
“Rory—”
He placed a finger across her lips. The flash of his smile was like the old Rory. “I know you think I’m wet behind the ears, but I’m going to show you I can be a man. Your man, Hallie. Now, hurry up to the house before you freeze without a coat. I have to drape blankets over this old truck’s radiator, or it could freeze and bust.”
Garth shot Hallie a strange look when she entered the kitchen. Keeping her back turned to him, she washed her hands and ladled up bowls of steaming soup before slicing bread still warm from the oven.
“This soup’s sure better’n mine.” Shaft got up to fill his bowl a second time. “I can taste dill and cheese, and the onion makes a world of difference. I’d sure like your receipt, Hallie.” That was what he called recipes.
“Is it harder cooking for railroad crews than for threshermen?” asked Hallie.
“Main difference is the old cookstove heat feels good now, and the fellas stay in the cookshack as long as they can. Sometimes I have a notion to make two troughs long enough to fit the table and just keep ’em both filled till the boys are stuffed.”
Rory slathered bread with Mary Donnelly’s butter. “You sayin’ we’re a bunch of hogs?”
“’Course not. Hogs have better manners.”
“Do you think you’ll get through early, Daddy?” Meg asked.
He shook his head. Hallie had forgotten how lamplight burnished his hair, brought out gold more than silver. He and Rory were still as tanned as they had been in summer. Their strength and sun-browned faces and hands created an aura of young masculinity and vital warmth in the kitchen just as their baritones satisfied a longing for male voices that Hallie hadn’t known she felt until the men’s words resonated much deeper than her ears.
“We’ll be home in time to get ready for the run but I don’t count on any time to spare.”
Meg’s lip quivered. She blinked rapidly. A tear fell into her bowl. “If—if I can’t drive the water wagon next summer—I’ll just want to die! Daddy, I will be able to walk by then, won’t I?”
The pain in Garth’s face wrenched at Hallie. “Sweetheart,” he said huskily, squeezing her hand, “if I could give you my legs, you know I would.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m going to drive that wagon! I’ll drive it if I have to get around on crutches! I—I’m not going to stay here while you go off again!”
“We’ll work it out,” Garth promised, but the joy of reunion was dampened by Meg’s outburst. Hallie brought generous helpings of cherry cobbler and poured more coffee for the men. As well as the hot water in the range reservoir, she had filled the largest pots and kettles so the men could all bathe that night.
“Shaft!” said Jackie, tugging at his adopted grandfather. “You gotta come see what Luke sent! And our tree!”
Meg brightened. “It’s so beautiful, what Luke and Mrs. Wells sent. And after Christmas, we’ll plant the tree outside. We made all the decorations.”
Garth flicked a glance in Hallie’s direction, but his smile was for Meg. “Well, let’s have a look,” he said and picked her up as easily as if she’d been a small girl instead of a big one.
The lamp on the sideboard cast a mellow sheen over the red-clay faces and animals, made the straw of the star, the angels’ wings, and the floor of the cavern gleam softest gold. The foil star glittered at the top of the little tree, and the ornaments reflected the red of the cranberries, white of the popcorn, and red-and-white-striped candy canes.
“Now, if that’s not about the prettiest sight I ever saw,” Shaft breathed. “Say, this is Christmas Eve. We’ve got to have a carol or two. Let me get my fiddle.”
He hurried out. Rory watched Hallie in a way that made her keep her gaze on the manger. Was that something glistening in Garth’s eyes as he sat on the davenport with Meg nestled against him? Hallie’s own eyes smarted. It had been years since she had snuggled close to her father like that, years since she had allowed him more than the briefest hug.
If only he were still alive—if only she had let him know she loved him before he died. Please do know it. Be happy with Mama and don’t worry about Jackie. I’ll take care of him. She didn’t want him to know about Felicity, how quickly she’d abandoned Jackie and married another man. Still, if there was any way the dead could know good things and not the bad, Hallie prayed it was so with her father.
Shaft tuned his wonderful old fiddle and bowed into “Joy to the World” followed by “Silent Night.”
“We have to sing ‘Away in a Manger,’” Meg said. “Oh, I hope Luke and Rusty’s family are singing now—and aren’t so sad they can’t be happy some of the time!”
“They’ll be happy with all the good presents we picked out!” Jackie said. “And the candy and nuts and cake!”
His face was shining. Hallie felt both relief and a stab of pain that he could forget his parents so quickly. Of course so much had happened and his life had changed so completely that his father’s death must seem long ago to him, and to endure his mother’s desertion, he had thought her dead, too.
Shaft finished with “Oh, Come All Ye Faithful.” Looking around, Hallie made another prayer. Let us be together next Christmas Eve and let Meg be walking. Please! I’d rather that happened than even for Garth to love me.
Rory dried dishes as she washed and rinsed them. She wouldn’t look at him but there was no way to keep from feeling the intensity of his gaze. Instead of falling for a Texas girl, he was set on her. She was fond of Rory, enjoyed his high spirits, and didn’t want to hurt him. How miserable!
As soon as the kitchen was tidy, she went up to bed so the men could take turns bathing by the warmth of the range. Rory brought in the tub and started filling it while Shaft carried Jackie upstairs and Garth helped Meg.
For a long time, from across the hall, Hallie could hear the muffled voices of Garth and his daughter. If Garth ever loved a woman half as much as he did his daughter, she would be lucky indeed. No matter how much Garth loved a woman, Hallie was sure he wouldn’t marry without Meg’s approval, at least not while she was still at home. In the terrible event that Meg remained lame, Garth most likely would never have another woman in his life.
He may not anyway, Hallie told herself. The way he looked when you came in from outside—has Rory said anything to him? Garth can’t think you love Rory, can he? But it would be almost as bad if he knows Rory loves you.
The muddle made Hallie’s head throb. She got up and made sure that the slumbering Jackie was covered. Smoky had apparently chosen to sleep with Shaft that night, and Lambie was cuddled to the boy’s cheek. She peered out the window and her heart lightened a bit to see the glow of a lamp in Shaft’s little house. She had cleaned it a few days ago, filled the coal box, put on fresh sheets, and set a jar of colorful grasses and dried pods on the little table. It was a bachelor’s den, yet Shaft seemed cheerful and content. His music helped a lot, and so did Smoky.
Hallie shivered. Would she be like that someday, living on the edge of other people�
�s lives, making them her family? Her head felt ready to burst. She got two aspirin from a bottle in the dresser, washed them down with a glass of water, and got back into bed.
Garth was home. He was safe, not out on the road somewhere. He had seemed happy singing carols that night, happy to make a celebration of Christmas. She would be grateful for that, treasure every minute with him, and try not to worry about the future or Rory’s disquieting confession.
XVIII
After a restless night of dreams in which she tried to speak to Garth but he could not or would not hear her, Hallie dressed by lamplight in her best winter dress—a softly fitted peacock velveteen—and brushed her hair till it curved softly about her face. It wasn’t long enough to catch anyone in the nets of Garth’s old song, but she hoped he would like it.
First in the kitchen, she made fires in the range and front-room stove, put on coffee, and set out a plate for each person as her mother used to. Mary Donnelly’s gingerbread figures, fruitcake, a heap of nuts, and some of every kind of candy and cookie made during the last weeks filled each plate.
Shaft came in cradling Smoky, and helped arrange the goodies. “Just a few inches of snow,” he said. “Enough to look pretty without bein’ a problem.” He glanced toward the stairway and lowered his voice. “Had any trouble with Cotton or Raford?”
“No, thank goodness. And I wrote you about Felicity coming.” Hallie turned to her friend. “It does seem a long time till spring, though, Shaft. Meg puts up with me because she has to, but she’s taken Jackie over till I feel like I’m just a housekeeper.” She sounded so self-pitying and Shaft looked so worried that Hallie added quickly, “The Donnellys always visit for a while when they bring the groceries and Meg’s homework. We’ve made it through two months. We’ll last till May.”
“Sure you will, honey, but I wish—” Someone was coming down the stairs. Shaft broke off whatever he had meant to say. “How’s about I make some of my special walnut pancakes?”
The Unplowed Sky Page 26
