A Convenient Christmas Wedding

by Regina Scott

  “John has been searching for the perfect tree,” Mrs. Wallin added. “We need a log that’s small enough to fit in the fireplace but big enough to burn from Christmas to New Year’s.”

  Ahead, John called out to the family, and everyone joined him around a thick fir. Two deep V’s had been cut near the base, one on either side, and wedges were stuck in one of the openings. Now Levi jogged forward, a long saw bouncing over one shoulder.

  Drew stepped up and took one of the handles. “Simon?” he called. “Lend a hand.”

  Once more Simon started, glancing around as if he thought someone else might carry the same name. Then pink stained the ridge of his cheeks.

  “Go on,” Nora urged. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Watch Fleet,” he said, then went to take up the other side of the saw.

  Mrs. Wallin moved up next to Nora. “It’s an honor to be the one to chop down the tree. Simon generally lets his younger brothers have a turn, but I’m glad Drew insisted on him this year.”

  So was Nora. Simon’s head was high, his grip firm. A light shone in his eyes, as if he knew this was his right. She could scarcely take her eyes off him.

  “Let’s bring her down,” Drew said.

  Nora knelt and wrapped her arms around Fleet’s big chest, her gloved hands deep in his fur. He shifted as if annoyed by her grip, but she wasn’t about to let him go until that tree was down.

  The blade bit into the thick trunk as Simon shoved and Drew pulled. Back and forth, back and forth they went, every cut inching deeper. There was a rhythm to it, as if each brother knew what to expect of the other and relied on his skill to keep the big saw moving. Muscles bulged under Simon’s coat. Sweat beaded his brow. The scent of sap tickled Nora’s nose as the song of the saw echoed through the woods.

  Then Simon and Drew stopped.

  “She’s coming down!” John cried.

  Nora flinched, but this time, the tree toppled away from her, bouncing as it hit the ground. The earth trembled.

  All the Wallin ladies applauded. Nora released Fleet to rise and join them, her eyes on Simon. He was strong and sure and so very capable. She pressed her fingers to her lips as he looked her way. She wanted to hold him, tell him how magnificent he was.

  Her husband.

  Could it really be? Could Christmas finally break through the last of his reserve and allow them to forge a true marriage?

  Chapter Nineteen

  John and James moved in, axes swinging, to chop the branches from the trunk. Simon had to force himself to take his eyes off Nora to help. Her look was so bright, her gaze so appreciative, that he wanted to puff his chest out with pride and crow like a rooster.

  He’d spent part of the night silently laying out his plan to show her how much he had come to admire her. It seemed odd to be courting a woman he’d already married, yet he could think of his plan in no other way. And when it came to courting, he hadn’t had a lot of experience.

  Until Asa Mercer had brought brides to Seattle, there had been precious few women to woo, even if Simon had had the time or interest. He’d seen Drew’s and James’s courtships, of course, but he was fairly sure neither could be counted as traditional. Levi had kidnapped Catherine to bring a nurse to help Ma and a bride for Drew. Rina and James had come together after being forced to survive in the wilderness alone.

  He knew Beth looked to his father’s books for examples of romance. But the romances in The Last of the Mohicans and The Courtship of Miles Standish had not turned out particularly well. So, when it came to showing Nora he wanted to make theirs a true marriage, he had remarkably little to go by.

  Still, in the weeks they had been married, he felt as if he had come to know her fairly well. She was kind, loyal, sweet and optimistic. She shared her love with everyone and anyone, from a lost dog to a man seeking shelter for the night. Surely that sort of kindness was what she might hope for in someone who loved her.

  So he had laid out a set of tasks designed to please her. He’d been hard at work at them in the barn that morning when his family had interrupted. And her beseeching look had told him it was better to capitulate and please her now than hold her off until later.

  But that didn’t mean he was going to abandon his plan. He’d simply have to bide his time.

  Now Nora joined his mother, Beth and his sisters-in-law in clearing away the broken branches around the tree trunk. John and Levi would come out later to hack the branches into firewood. For the moment, his youngest brothers were busy wrapping ropes about the trunk, securing it to a harness that John had made and brought out earlier.

  Drew stepped back and eyed their handiwork.

  “Time to bring it home,” he declared.

  Nora looked up with a puzzled frown. “Shouldn’t we have brought the oxen?”

  “We don’t use oxen to bring in the Yule log,” his mother explained. “We bring it in by our own hands.”

  Nora’s eyes widened.

  Drew started. Taking the thickest rope over his shoulder, he gripped it with both hands and leaned against it. Simon heard someone, likely Catherine, suck in a breath as his muscles bunched. Like a gladiator of old, his brother dragged the log forward on the wet ground.

  “Clear the path for him,” Ma ordered, bending to push aside the brush. Beth rolled stones out of the way, and Catherine and Rina helped.

  Aware of Nora’s eyes on him, Simon took up the rope behind his brother.

  “Together,” he said, digging in his toes.

  The log moved faster.

  Nora applauded.

  Oh, but he could get used to her attentions. She made him feel as if he were the most clever, the strongest, the best of his brothers, when he knew he was anything but. For her, though, he wanted to be that perfect man, that example she could look at with pride. He put his back into the rope and pulled harder.

  One by one, James, John and Levi joined in, until the five of them were walking at an almost normal pace. The massive log followed behind, like a cow on a lead. Nora’s eyes were shining as Simon passed her, her hands clasped together as if she could scarcely contain her delight in him.

  That was the look he craved. Her acceptance, joy.

  As they came out into the clearing, his mother and sister hurried ahead to open the door to the house. Drew and Simon climbed the steps, then bent to lift the head of the log. His other brothers shoved until the log was flat on the boardwalk, pointing toward the open door.

  His mother and Beth came out of the house then, bearing cups of hot cider.

  “God rest ye merry, gentlemen,” Ma began to sing in her warm alto.

  Beth took up the song as she helped distribute the cups. Then the family joined in.

  “O tidings of comfort and joy,” Simon sang, “comfort and joy. O tidings of comfort and joy.”

  Until he’d met Nora, he’d never known true comfort or joy. Now he felt as if anything were possible. He raised his cup in toast, his gaze brushing Nora’s as he did so. Her smile was warmer than the heated tin in his hand.

  His family raised their cups as well before drinking deep.

  But Simon’s gaze remained on Nora, and once again hope gathered in his heart.

  * * *

  Nora helped the Wallins get the log the rest of the way into the house and hearth, where it filled the stone opening. Her heart felt just as full. With everything he’d done, Simon had looked to her, as if determined to make her feel part of the family. It was almost as if her acceptance was important to him. He made her want to hope.

  Yet hope was dangerous. What if she’d misunderstood as she’d misunderstood Mr. Winnower’s attentions back in Lowell? What if it was only the spirit of Christmas that motivated him, not a particular appreciation for her? She’d never inspired such looks before. Could she believe them now?


  “I have the brand,” Beth announced, hurrying to bring a porcelain box to the hearth. She opened the lid to reveal a partly blackened shard of wood. Pulling out the stump, she held it in the lamp’s flame until it glowed red and fire danced on the tip.

  “Nora?” she asked, offering her the tiny torch. “Would you like to light the log?”

  Nora’s gaze darted from one smiling face to the other. “Me?” She looked to Simon, who nodded agreement.

  Beth’s smile deepened. “You. Simon can show you how.”

  Fingers trembling, Nora accepted the flaming stump.

  “It’s the remaining piece from last year,” John explained as Nora turned to the Yule log.

  The whole thing looked so huge. How could one little flame ignite it?

  Simon came up behind her, put his arms around her, his hands cupping hers. “You just need to find a bit of dry bark,” he murmured in her ear. “That should start it burning.”

  Having him so close, she was the one feeling warm. It was hard to concentrate, but she hunted over the log until she found a patch of bark that must have been sheltered by a branch, for it was dry and rougher than usual. With Simon’s hands holding hers, she laid the brand against the bark and watched as the spark ignited and spread.

  Was that what it would be like if Simon loved her? Would the spark of love spread, bringing light and warmth to her and anyone around her?

  “Huzzah!” John cried, and the others took up the cheer.

  “Well done, Nora,” Simon said.

  She closed her eyes a moment, leaned back into the circle of his arms, until she felt his chin brushing her hair.

  Oh, Heavenly Father, could this feeling last? Could Simon really come to love me?

  Simon’s arms fell away, and she opened her eyes to find him already moving toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish in the barn.”

  She wanted to cry out, rush after him, but what could she say? She couldn’t beg, and she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his family.

  Beth had no such worries, for she darted in front of him. “Simon, no! The house is still a mess after all our visitors. I need you here. And there are apples to peel for the pie and stuffing to make for dinner tomorrow.”

  James strode up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Might as well bid your bride goodbye, Simon. You have been conscripted into the Christmas army.”

  “And so have you,” Beth scolded. “Now hop to it.”

  James saluted smartly, laughing all the while.

  Simon glanced around, his gaze crossing Nora’s. “You have plenty of help. I’ll be back to do my part shortly.” With a nod to Nora, he pushed past his sister for the door, Fleet following him.

  Nora puffed out a breath.

  Beth stomped her foot. “Oh! Boys! When I’m grown, I won’t have another in my house.”

  “Aren’t you the one always talking about love and romance?” her mother reminded her with a smile.

  “For other people,” Beth assured her. She glanced after Simon. “Though I’m beginning to think that brother is a lost cause.”

  A shiver went through Nora despite the warmth from the fire. For, deep down, she feared the same thing.

  * * *

  Despite Nora’s concerns, it was a merry afternoon, with Simon’s family hurrying about between the cabins, and some furtive scurrying between the loft and the main room. Surprises seemed as sure as the spice in Mrs. Wallin’s cider. Beth was the prime director, ordering this person here, that task done there.

  “You have to go back to Simon’s cabin,” she informed Nora at one point, “and get your stocking and Simon’s.”

  Nora glanced to the hearth, where Levi was already pounding a nail through the top of a purple wool sock that must have been his. The dainty one next to it, patterned pink and blue, was surely Beth’s.

  Nora slipped on her cloak and ventured out into the cold. She couldn’t help casting a glance toward the barn, but there was no sign of Simon. She thought she caught the sound of pounding, but that might have been one of the other Wallins hanging a stocking by the fire.

  Something white danced in the air when she entered the cabin, and for a moment she had the odd thought that it had somehow snowed inside. Then she realized the snowflakes were actually goose feathers. Fleet stood by the hearth, his mouth still full of Simon’s pallet, which lay like a flattened balloon at the dog’s feet. Simon must have returned him to the house instead of taking him to the barn.

  “Oh, Fleet! What have you done?” Nora shut the door behind her and rushed into the room.

  Fleet leaped back, dragging the nearly empty pallet around the table. Nora finally jumped on the thing to get him to stop pulling. Then she rose and looked around.

  Feathers flecked every surface, from the mantel to the floor. The pallet was ripped wide-open in at least three places, as if the dog had clawed and chewed his way into the bag. And the quilt was rent in two.

  Nora dropped down on the floor. What could she say to Simon? She’d brought Fleet into the house, insisted upon it in fact, and he had all but destroyed Simon’s bed.

  “This is not acceptable!” she scolded Fleet, shaking the quilt in his face.

  In answer, Fleet bit into the material once again and tugged it out of her grip.

  Nora rose. “No! Put that down. Now!”

  She thought it was surprise more than obedience that made the dog open his mouth.

  Nora drew in a breath. “We’ll have to clean this up. And I can see I’ll have to find something more useful for you to do than stay in the house. I do understand being bored, truly I do. But I cannot allow you to harm our things. It isn’t right.”

  Fleet sat down and said, “Noooooo.”

  Nora pointed her finger at him. “That’s entirely enough from you, sir. If I could teach you to sew, I’d put you to work right now. As it is, you’re going outside until I clean up this mess.”

  It took quite a while to set the cabin to rights. The best she could do for the moment was to slip stitch the bag partway shut, shove in as many feathers as she could gather, and then stitch it the rest of the way. The quilt would take more work. She managed to carry it up to the loft and tossed hers down. Then she located a spare stocking.

  Where would Simon’s be? Likely in the trunk.

  Nora lifted the carved lid and peered inside. She wasn’t surprised to find everything folded neatly and arranged by color. What did surprise her was that the only colors were brown and gray, and many of his stockings were worn. Did he not know how to darn, or had he been busy and refused to ask his mother for help? Well, she could certainly help. That would be her next project.

  As it was, she dropped her and Simon’s stockings off at the house for Levi to hang and barely made it to the barn with Fleet in time to milk Britta. Simon looked up from the manger when she opened the door, then strode to meet her before she could set a foot inside.

  “I’m sorry, Nora,” he said. “I’m not quite finished. I’ll milk Britta for you tonight, and I’ll see you at dinner. Fleet can stay with me.”

  But she couldn’t? Well!

  Perhaps he truly did have work to do. Perhaps her short sojourn in the hayloft had disturbed something he felt must be fixed. Perhaps he was working on a present.

  In the barn?

  She entered the main cabin feeling unsettled. The table was ready for dinner, and everyone else was lounging about. No, not lounging. Excitement hung in the air, and glances zipped from person to person.

  “We were just waiting for you and Simon,” Mrs. Wallin said, coming to take Nora’s cloak. “But I think I see something in your stocking.”

  She couldn’t help the tingle of anticipation as she looked to the hearth. Sure enough, her stocking bulged. She glanced at Mrs. Wallin, who n
odded toward the fire. “Go ahead, dear. See what Father Christmas left for you.”

  Nora ventured to the hearth, even as Levi and Beth pounced on their stockings, and the others moved closer to inspect theirs as well. Nora pulled the stocking from the nail and reached inside to find a tangerine, a handkerchief embroidered with her initial, a knit scarf of a familiar-looking purple heather yarn and a book of poetry.

  Simon’s stocking, hanging next to hers, looked significantly less thick.

  Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, she slipped her hand in his stocking. Her fingers met the rough edge of a rock.

  Oh, no. She would not stand for Simon getting coal. She pulled out the rock and tucked it in her pocket. Then she put in her tangerine. She couldn’t very well give him the handkerchief or the scarf, but after a moment’s thought, she slipped in the poetry book as well.

  The door opened just then for Simon, a bucket of milk in hand, and Nora scampered back from the hearth. Fleet bounded in on his heels, going from person to person and saying hello. The others were examining their gifts and exclaiming over the thoughtfulness. Mrs. Wallin had a new comb for her hair, edged with pearl beads that looked suspiciously like the ones Beth had purchased from Father Christmas. Beth had received the latest issue of Godey’s and was already curled up in her mother’s rocker scanning the pages of the famous ladies’ magazine. John was fingering a fishing lure. A loud metallic hum proved that Levi had indeed found a harmonica in his stocking and was trying it out.

  Nora could hardly wait for Simon to peer into his stocking. But he didn’t go near the hearth even after he left the milk in the kitchen. Instead, he came up to her with a smile.

  “And did Father Christmas reward you for your kindness?”

  “Yes,” she said, holding up her handkerchief and scarf. “Aren’t they lovely?”

  “Not as lovely as you,” he murmured.

  Nora caught her breath.

  “Go on, Simon,” James called. “You haven’t looked in your stocking yet.”

  Simon turned and looked to the stocking. Then he frowned and wandered closer.