Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  “Can we open them now?” Daniel stared at the packages beneath the tree as if he didn’t trust Mary, who had plunked herself next to them, not to open his. Sam’s grin told Harriet he had urged his brother to ask the question, while the gleam in Jake’s eye gave lie to his feigned nonchalance. Only Ruth paid no heed to the gifts. Her gaze was fixed on the young minister.

  Harriet nodded. Though the food was ready to be served, it would not spoil if they waited half an hour. Besides, it was obvious that the younger Kirks were too excited to enjoy even the best of meals. As she settled into one of the wingbacked chairs on one side of the rug, smiling when Lawrence took its companion, Harriet watched her siblings arrange themselves. Ruth perched on the edge of a wooden chair, perhaps because it was the closest to the horsehair sofa where she’d suggested Sterling sit. The other children positioned themselves on the floor only inches from the tree and the packages that so intrigued them.

  Contentment rose within Harriet as she thought about the day she had once dreaded. So far, it had been amazingly pleasant. Sterling’s sermon had stirred the congregation as he’d asked them to reflect on what Mary and Joseph had felt that Christmas Day almost two thousand years ago. “What do you suppose it was like,” he asked, “once the angels and the shepherds left? New parents are always nervous, worrying that they won’t know how to care for their child. What must it have been like, knowing this was no ordinary baby?” Harriet had smiled as Isabelle gripped Gunther’s hand, no doubt thinking of her impending motherhood.

  “Do you suppose Jesus spilled milk?” Mary asked when they returned home. Fortunately, there had been no spilled milk or squabbling as the family ate breakfast, despite the fact that the youngest three were visibly anxious for their presents. Even opening the gifts had been more pleasant than normal, for Ruth’s choices had been excellent, filling each of the children with delight. Though Harriet had feared otherwise, it appeared that no one regretted not being in Fortune today. She certainly did not.

  As Sterling distributed the packages Lawrence had brought, consulting the tag on each to deliver it to the correct member of the Kirk family, Ruth’s smile broadened, and in that moment, she was beautiful.

  “Look, Harriet!” Mary held out the bonnet that was a perfect match for the dress her new doll wore. When Harriet gave Lawrence a questioning look, he mouthed the words “Madame Rousseau.” It appeared that Isabelle’s mother had told him of the doll Harriet had ordered for her youngest sister. But the boys’ gifts—jacks for Daniel, a cribbage board for Sam, and a chisel for Jake—were not Madame Rousseau’s selections. Harriet knew that as surely as she knew the boys would treasure their presents. She smiled, hoping Lawrence would read her approval of his choices.

  “We can’t forget our hostesses,” he said. In response, Sterling handed Ruth a small bag, while Lawrence held out a flat package to Harriet.

  Though Ruth quickly opened the bag and exclaimed over the sweets it contained, Harriet was loath to unwrap her gift. Whatever it was, she wanted to savor the moment. She turned toward her youngest sister. “Mary, I think you’ll find two packages on the other side of the tree.” Harriet had placed them there when the family had finished opening their gifts. “Would you bring them to me?” She handed Ruth the one for Sterling and watched, bemused, as both her sister and the minister blushed when their hands touched.

  Sterling studied the package, turning it over in his hands as if he were considering what the contents might be, though the size and shape indicated it could only be a book. “The gift of your company is more than enough. I don’t need a present.”

  Leaning forward, Ruth shook her head. “Please open it. I chose it for you.”

  His flush deepened as he unwrapped the book. “St. Thomas of Aquinas.” Sterling’s tone was reverent as he admired the leather binding. “What a fine edition!”

  “It was our grandfather’s,” Ruth explained. “I thought you might enjoy it.”

  “Oh, I will.” He leaned forward so that his head was practically touching Ruth’s, and the two began to converse quietly. With the other children engrossed with their new toys and Ruth and Sterling occupied, Harriet could almost imagine that she was alone with Lawrence.

  “This is for you.” She handed him the remaining gift.

  Though he accepted it, he made no move to unwrap it. “Please open yours first. I hope I wasn’t mistaken when I chose it.”

  Unlike his gift and Sterling’s, which were clearly books, the contents of Harriet’s package were not obvious. Slowly, so she could extend the moment, she untied the ribbon and slid the paper away, then carefully opened the box. “Oh, Lawrence!” Harriet gasped at the contents. It was a book, but what a book! “I’ve never had anything like this.” She stroked the cover, admiring the embossed leaves and vines, then smiled at the pictures of flowers that graced its pages. The artist’s skill was undeniable. “They look so real that I can almost smell them.”

  Lawrence’s eyes sparkled, and she saw that her words had pleased him. “You said you liked flowers, so I thought you might enjoy looking at this, especially during the winter when nothing is blooming.”

  “It’s perfect.” She spoke softly, not wanting the others to intrude into her conversation with Lawrence. “I couldn’t have wished for anything better.” When his smile broadened, she gestured toward the package he still held. “It’s your turn now. I’m sure you’ve already figured out that it’s a book.”

  “I did have a slight suspicion,” he admitted with a mischievous grin. “The title will be the surprise.” He grinned again at the words embossed on the cover. “The Aeneid.” Lawrence opened to the first page and began to read, “‘Arms and the man I sing.’ I’ve heard of Virgil’s epic poem,” he admitted, “but I’ve never read it.”

  “Like Sterling’s gift, it’s another one of my grandfather’s books. I hope you don’t mind that it’s not new.” Though she tried not to let her nervousness show, Harriet could not disguise the slight trembling of her voice. She had hoped Lawrence would like his gift, but now, faced with the beautiful new items he’d given her family, she wondered whether she had made a mistake.

  He waited until she met his gaze before he spoke, and when he did, Lawrence’s eyes shone with sincerity. “To the contrary, the book is more valuable because of its age and history.” He fingered the leather binding and smiled. “I feel as if you’ve given me a part of yourself.”

  Harriet drew in a deep breath, then returned his smile. Thank goodness, she had not made a mistake. She had chosen The Aeneid for a number of reasons. First, it had one of the most beautiful bindings in her grandfather’s collection. Secondly, as a story of heroic deeds and great adventure, she thought it would appeal to Lawrence. It might even remind him of his days as a Ranger. But most of all, Harriet had selected it because it was one of her favorite tales and she wanted to share it with Lawrence.

  Grandpa had had a copy in the original Latin, but this one, which he had acquired soon after they moved to Texas, was English. Since Harriet doubted that Lawrence read Latin, the choice of edition had been simple. What she had questioned was whether he would enjoy the story. Now, seeing his reaction to the gift, she was hopeful that he would.

  The afternoon passed more quickly than Harriet had thought possible. Though they lingered at the dinner table for over an hour, savoring the meal Ruth had worked so hard to prepare, and then spent several more hours in the parlor, watching the boys play with their new toys while the adults conversed quietly, it seemed as if only a few minutes had gone by when Sterling rose and declared it time to leave.

  “I’d better go too.” Lawrence stood, extending his hand to help Harriet rise. Surely it was her imagination that he held it a bit longer than necessary, that he pressed it tighter than convention demanded. Oh, her traitorous imagination! Ever since the night when he’d kissed her hand, she had been filled with memories of how sweet that had felt and wishes that he would repeat it. Harriet’s face flushed as she admitted her dreams had been
for more than a simple repetition. She had dreamt of Lawrence kissing not her hand but her lips. Foolish, foolish Harriet! Lawrence was her friend. A good friend, it was true, but merely a friend.

  “What a wonderful day.” Ruth sighed with pleasure after she closed the door behind the two men.

  It had been wonderful. The day that had begun so well had continued to improve. Everyone seemed happy, and Ruth . . . well, the change in Ruth could only be called miraculous. Harriet’s formerly reclusive sister had been almost vivacious this afternoon, laughing and actually initiating conversation. The difference was so dramatic that it brought to mind a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. What could have caused the change? Harriet thought back over the day’s events, recalling the flush that had colored her sister’s cheeks when Lawrence and Sterling had arrived and the way she had smiled when she and Sterling had conversed. Was he the cause? She knew they were friends, but perhaps there was more than friendship. Could it be that her sister harbored tender feelings for the minister?

  Harriet frowned. Though many girls were married by the time they reached Ruth’s age, her sister’s life had been so sheltered that Harriet did not believe she was ready for such a change. And, if she were being truthful, she wasn’t ready, either. Ruth was an integral part of the family. What would they do without her? Suddenly, the bright and shiny, almost perfect day lost its sheen.

  Despite efforts to regain her earlier pleasure, when night fell, Harriet was still feeling disgruntled. Realizing there was no point in inflicting her malaise on the rest of the family, she grabbed her cloak and headed outside. Perhaps a brisk walk would restore her spirits. Instead of turning down rue du Marché, as she normally did, tonight she wanted to walk beside the river, and so she continued along Rhinestrasse, not even slowing when she passed the school.

  “May I join you?”

  Harriet spun around, her spirits rising as fast as Independence Day fireworks at the sound of Lawrence’s voice. “Please do.” The gloomy thoughts that had plagued her fled, replaced by a swift rush of pleasure.

  Harriet smiled as he crooked his arm, inviting her to tuck her hand into it. “We can turn around,” she offered. “I was going to walk by the river, but there’s no need to do that.” Though gently flowing water soothed her, she knew it had the opposite effect on Lawrence.

  “I don’t mind as long as you stay close to me. You’ll be safe if you’re holding on to me.”

  She would indeed, for his arm was strong and comforting, giving her the sensation of being next to a bulwark. There was no danger of falling into the water while she was clasping Lawrence’s arm.

  When they reached the river, they turned left, heading in the same direction they had taken the night of the fall festival. Tonight, though, there were no sounds of revelers in the distance, nothing but the normal squeaks and slithers of nocturnal creatures.

  “I want to thank you again for your invitation,” Lawrence said as they strolled slowly along the Medina’s bank. “This was the best Christmas I can recall.”

  Now that she was with him, that was true for her once again. Being with Lawrence restored her equilibrium and revived memories of the happy day. “I feel that way too,” Harriet said, tightening her grip on his arm ever so slightly. Though she did not need the physical support, the warmth that emanated from his sleeve reassured her. “I was a little worried about my family, wondering if they’d miss Fortune. They don’t have a lot of happy memories of it, but it was the only home they’ve known.” Harriet laughed softly as she said, “My grandmother used to claim that Christmas is the season of miracles. Perhaps it is, because my family was more content than I’ve ever seen them.”

  “Perhaps that’s because Ladreville has become their home.”

  “Perhaps.” Harriet smiled at the thought. The events of the last month, even Thomas’s unwelcome visit, had made her realize that this was her home. She had no desire to leave, especially when she had friends like Isabelle and Lawrence. “I hope that’s true. It would be good if they were all happy, but right now that doesn’t matter. What matters is that today was a perfect day.”

  Lawrence stopped and looked down at her, his eyes sparkling with an emotion she could not identify. Though the night was cool and the breeze off the river penetrated Harriet’s cloak, Lawrence’s expression was as warm as the summer sun. “Not perfect, but close. There is one thing that would make it better.”

  The look on his face made Harriet’s heart skip a beat. “What is that?” Her words emerged as little more than a croak.

  Lawrence smiled, and then, as slowly as if he had all the time in the world, he slid his arms around Harriet. Drawing her closer, he smiled again. “This,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers.

  19

  “I can’t believe it’s already 1858.” Isabelle shook her head as she poured a cup of coffee for Harriet. The two women were seated in Isabelle’s kitchen, where Harriet had come after school.

  “The holiday passed quickly.” Though the memory of how Christmas Day had ended lingered, Harriet would not tell Isabelle about that. Lawrence’s kiss was something she hugged to herself, not wanting to spoil it by sharing it with anyone. Even now, when she knew no one could see her, she would press her fingers to her lips, recalling how firm his lips had been, how their touch had sent sensations flooding through her. Though the kiss had lasted only seconds, the memory was indelibly etched on her brain.

  “I was surprised that the students were glad to come back to school after Christmas.” She needed to talk about ordinary things, not the extraordinary pleasure she had found in Lawrence’s arms.

  Isabelle pushed a plate of cookies toward Harriet. “The novelty of new toys wears off quickly unless they can share them with others.”

  Harriet nodded. With Christmas being on a Friday, the children had had three days without school. When they had returned, many had brought their favorite gift, wanting to show it to their friends. “The children didn’t even complain about nothing growing in the garden. I think they’ve forgotten it.” And Harriet wasn’t complaining about that. It was good that her pupils had other things to occupy them.

  “Eva hasn’t forgotten. She’s simply more concerned about her baby brothers.”

  Harriet couldn’t help smiling, for Eva had announced to the entire school that she was going to have two baby brothers. She had even declared that one would be named Harry in honor of Harriet. “I’m practicing so I can take care of a real baby,” she had confided when she showed Harriet the baby doll she had received for Christmas.

  “What will Eva do if one of the babies is a girl?”

  “The same thing we all will. Love her.” Her smile fading, Isabelle continued. “I only wish Gunther weren’t so worried.”

  “He’s still concerned about your confinement?”

  The lovely brunette nodded.

  “You’re healthy, and Priscilla is an accomplished midwife.” Harriet had heard tales of how she’d delivered a breech baby without assistance. Surely twins would be easier than that. “Besides, there’s always Clay. The grapevine says he’s a first-rate doctor.”

  Isabelle took another bite of cookie, chewing thoughtfully before she said, “It’s probably just my nerves. Maman said ladies in a family way have strange worries and cravings. Still, I can’t help wishing the bridge was already finished.”

  “Why are you so worried?” This was the first time Harriet had heard Isabelle mention the bridge.

  “Because both Priscilla and Clay are on the opposite side of the river. What if they can’t get to me in time to deliver the babies?”

  Harriet reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Stop worrying, Isabelle. That won’t happen.”

  “Did you hear the news?” Zach asked without preamble as he strode into Lawrence’s office. “Rustlers struck Herr Plaut’s ranch. Took a dozen head of cattle.”

  Lawrence rose from behind the desk. Zach’s announcement was of far more importance than reading the wan
ted posters that had arrived in today’s mail. Besides, it might help him stop thinking about Christmas night and the way Harriet’s lips had felt. Ever since that night, he’d been able to think of little else.

  “I don’t like the sound of that.” Herr Plaut lived near Golden, the closest town, making his ranch less than ten miles from Ladreville. “A dozen isn’t enough for most thieves. They could be coming this way.” Everyone in this part of Texas knew of Zach’s cattle.

  Zach scratched his nose and frowned. “That’s what I thought. I sure would like to catch them this time.”

  Lawrence’s pulse accelerated at the prospect of stopping the raids once and for all. This was why he’d been hired, to keep the people of Ladreville and their livelihoods safe.

  “Looks like it’s time for another stakeout. If they want your cattle, my guess is the bandits will hit within the next three days. The new moon’s tonight, and that’ll give them the greatest cover of darkness.”

  Zach nodded. “I’ll tell Priscilla I won’t be home for a few days.”

  And I’ll tell Harriet.

  When was that blasted woman going to leave? Thomas crouched behind one of the large oak trees and glared at the school. The pupils had been gone for half an hour now, all thirty or so of those screaming monsters. What was she waiting for? Was she counting the money? That was the only reason Thomas could imagine for her staying in that little building.

  If she didn’t go home before the sun set, he’d be stuck here for another day, because there were some things that could not be done after dark, and searching the school was one of them. He couldn’t risk lighting a lantern and alerting others to his presence, especially since his legs were still wobbly. Though the old couple claimed it was the grippe, Thomas blamed the Christmas goose they served him for the fever and the ailment that had turned his insides out and left him writhing in pain for more than a week. Even when food no longer turned his stomach, he’d been too weak to walk, and so he’d remained another four days to regain his strength, and all the while, he’d fumed, thinking of the gold and silver waiting for him.