Love Inspired Historical November 2017 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  And Oscar realized that he was going to have to make some decisions about his life, too. The way he had been living over the past couple of years couldn’t go on. Not for Liesl’s sake, nor for his own. He needed to move on.

  But was moving on the same as forgetting?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I promise, I won’t stir a step without you. I’ll even stay in the wagon if you can drive up close enough that I can see the children.” Kate put her hand on Oscar’s arm. “Please. I don’t want to miss this. And no one else here should, either. If I have to stay home, you won’t let me stay alone, so who would have to remain with me?”

  She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions…which were behaving like a deer trying to run on the ice…under control. For the past month she’d looked forward to attending the Star Singing, had helped Liesl learn the Christmas carols, had sewn her Christmas dress, which she wore now, twirling in circles to bell out the skirt. If Kate had to stay behind, and someone else had to stay with her… She blinked hard against the pricking high in her nose and the watering of her eyes.

  “You need rest right now.” His brow furrowed.

  “I’ve never felt better. Maybe it’s cabin fever, maybe it’s ‘nesting’ like Inge said, but I feel restless, like I need to be doing something. And I’ve looked forward to this day for weeks.”

  He didn’t look convinced. All the grown-ups waited for his verdict.

  “Daddy, look,” Liesl interrupted, pointing. “You’re standing under the mistletoes.” Her grin split her face. “Now you get to give Miss Kate a kiss.”

  Everyone in the room went still. Kate’s eyes collided with Oscar’s, and warmth spread up her neck into her face. She could read nothing in Oscar’s expression, but his eyes darkened.

  She swallowed, and her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. His gaze followed the motion like a hawk on a mouse.

  “Go ahead, Daddy,” Liesl prompted.

  A small uptick at the corner of his mouth, as if a chuckle had almost worked its way out, caught her attention. He glanced up at the bundle hanging from the lintel, inches above his head, and rubbed his palm on the back of his neck.

  “Kate?”

  Kate matched his almost laugh with an embarrassed smile of her own. She nodded her permission. He would give her a quick peck on the cheek, and that would be it. But if that was so, why on earth was she wondering if his beard felt as soft as it looked, and if his lips would be firm and warm?

  Then he had his hands on her upper arms, and as he bent his head, she held still, not knowing which cheek he would kiss…but he didn’t opt for her cheek. His lips met hers, and in an instant, several of her questions were answered and a hundred more popped into her head.

  His beard was as soft as it looked, and his lips were firm and warm against hers. She was too surprised to even close her eyes, and she had no idea how long the kiss lasted, but long enough for her to feel as if…should he loosen his grasp on her arms…she might spin right out into space.

  Then he straightened, slanting a look at Liesl. “Fair enough?”

  “Good job, Daddy.” Liesl climbed up to check on her ‘‘’Ativity” scene on the sideboard. “Now Mary and Joseph are here. We just have to wait for Baby Jesus.”

  If Kate had thought her emotions were a skittery jumble before, she had been mistaken. A kite in a tornado had more control of itself. Kate didn’t know where to look. Was her face as red as it felt? Here she was, as big as a barn with this baby, widowed less than a year, and all she could think about was how nice it was to be kissed by Oscar Rabb.

  What was wrong with her?

  She caught Inge’s eye, and her grandmother-in-law’s lips trembled and her eyes sparkled. Martin coughed, but he couldn’t quite cover his laugh.

  Oscar cleared his throat and drew her into the kitchen, away from the mistletoe. “You should stay home, you know.”

  Her heart dropped out of its rosy bemusement back to reality.

  “But,” he continued, “if you promise to be careful, to let me help you and to stay where I put you while we’re in town, you can go.” He held her gaze effortlessly.

  Swoop! Her heart soared again, and not just because she was going to get to go, but because of the warm look in his dark eyes, at the cloud of…awareness…that seemed to encircle them.

  “Is it time to go yet, Daddy?” Liesl had been asking all day. Oscar turned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Not yet, Poppet. Why don’t you help pack up the goodies Mrs. Amaker is taking tonight?”

  When it was time to get ready to go, Kate burst out laughing. Oscar came down from upstairs with what looked like every blanket in the house in his arms. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t want anyone to get cold, and these will make the ride more comfortable, too.”

  Martin came in from the front porch. “The horses are ready. It’s a beautifully clear night, but it is going to be a cold one.” He blew on his hands.

  “See.” Oscar handed Inge a couple of the heaviest quilts. “Warm these by the stove. I’ll put the rest in the wagon.”

  Kate helped Liesl into her red and black plaid coat and tugged on her little mittens. “You need to keep your hat on, missy.” She stretched the knitted cap over the pinned-up braids and tied the bobbles beneath Liesl’s chin. “Do you have your star?”

  “I’ll get it.” She scampered into the parlor.

  “I don’t know who is more excited, her or me.” Kate reached for her burgundy cloak, but Oscar, coming back into the kitchen, took it from her hands and draped it over her shoulders, tying the strings under her chin.

  “Are those bricks ready?” Oscar asked.

  “Yes. I wrapped them in towels to keep them hot.” Martin hefted the laundry basket. “I’ll go put them into the wagon.”

  Inge took one last turn around the house, making sure every candle and lamp was extinguished, and that the fire in the stove was well-banked with every door closed and the damper drawn down. They still had no idea how the fire had started at their house, but since that night, she took every precaution.

  Oscar insisted on carrying Kate to the wagon and settling her into the deep bed of hay on the pile of blankets. Martin put a hot brick at her feet, and Inge covered her with one of the quilts she’d warmed in front of the stove.

  “I feel like the princess in your storybook, Liesl.”

  Liesl climbed in and snuggled under the blanket with her, careful not to mar her paper star. Martin helped Inge into the back and took the seat up front with Oscar. With a clash of bells, the horses started.

  Hundreds of stars shone overhead, and the sled runners squeaked on the snow. Over all, the cheerful jingle of the sleigh bells competed with the clop of the horses’ hooves.

  Kate wanted to treasure this moment in time, so she could remember it in the coming days and weeks when things were hard. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the thought that, in less than a month, they would be leaving this place, these people.

  And she knew that leaving the people would be even harder than leaving the place. Wrapping her arm tighter around Liesl, she bit her lip to stay her tears.

  They crossed the bridge into Berne, and Liesl could sit still no longer. She crawled across Kate’s legs toward the front of the wagon to stand behind her father. Lights shone from many windows, making blocks of golden orange on the snow and deepening the shadows to blue and purple.

  “We’re meeting in the churchyard, and the children will march around ‘The Circle.’” Martin’s breath plumed as he gave Oscar the instructions. “Then we meet back at the church for the service.”

  Kate shifted on the straw as her back complained. The ride had been fairly smooth, but in spite of the blankets and straw, it was difficult to find a comfortable positio
n.

  Wagons lined the side streets, but several men were directing folks to stay away from the parade route, to keep it clear. Oscar bent to talk to Bill Zank, who stood in the middle of Buchanan Street with his lantern.

  “Sure, go ahead, then drive over by the church to tie up.”

  Oscar turned onto Jackson Street and stopped in front of Hale’s Mercantile. He jumped down onto the snow and came around the back of the wagon.

  “I’ll drop you ladies off here.” He pulled the cottar pins out of the tailgate and lowered it. “Liesl, you wait there. All the children are meeting Mrs. Tipford at the church to line up.”

  Gently, he helped Inge to the ground and offered her his arm for the few steps to the front porch of the store. Lamps burned on every porch post, and a crowd of townsfolk milled, waiting and talking. Oscar returned to the wagon and reached in for Kate.

  “I can walk easily enough,” she reminded him as he lifted her into his arms. He smelled of sawdust and winter air, and he held her firmly, his arms strong bands behind her shoulders and beneath her knees.

  “I know, but then you’d deprive me of the chance to show off.” He grinned, his face close to hers, and she remembered the wonder and thrill of his kiss.

  “Right here,” Mrs. Hale called from the porch. “I have a place all ready for her.” People stepped aside, and Mrs. Hale stood beside a blanket-covered chair. She flitted and fluttered, twitching the blanket, moving the chair until it sat just so. “My dear, I was perfectly astonished when I saw you. I thought you’d surely stay home tonight.”

  Oscar bent and set Kate into the chair, holding her gaze. “Martin and I will be back soon.”

  “Thank you.” She adjusted her cloak and skirts. “And thank you, Mrs. Hale. I’ll be most comfortable.”

  “You’re a brave woman. I don’t think I put my nose out the door for two months before each of my children was born.”

  Inge carried one of the quilts and draped it around Kate’s shoulders. “It can get cold, sitting.”

  Liesl waved from the back of the wagon as Oscar pulled away. Kate’s heart swelled with love for the little girl, so exuberant and vivacious. How was she going to bear to leave her behind when the time came?

  Neighbors and townsfolk greeted her and Inge. There were more people this year for the parade, it seemed.

  “Oh, yes, the township has almost a thousand people living here now.” Mrs. Hale rewrapped her scarf. “Did Martin get his letters? I can’t remember the last time someone got three letters all at once, and from as far away as Saint Paul and Cincinnati. I half expected to see him at the post office with replies, especially to Mr. Siddons’s letter.”

  Kate caught Inge’s eye. Martin hadn’t mentioned letters to her. Inge gave a tiny shake of her head. Inge put her hand on Kate’s shoulder, squeezing. They would discuss this later, out of earshot of the eager Mrs. Hale.

  Oscar and Martin arrived, and Inge threaded her arm through her husband’s. Oscar came to stand beside Kate. “All right?”

  “Yes.” She shifted on the chair, pressing her hand against her middle. “Did Liesl find the right place?”

  “She’s practically floating across the snow. I left her to Mrs. Tipford’s tender mercies.” Oscar stood behind Kate’s chair, his hands on her shoulders.

  “Are you trying to make sure I stay where you put me?” She turned her head and smiled up at him.

  “Something like that.”

  “Here they come!” a man up the street yelled.

  “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.” Children’s voices, high and pure, rose into the night, and the watchers grew quiet. Slowly, in pairs, with stars raised high, the children marched behind two of the older boys who carried lanterns on poles to light the way.

  Kate found Liesl in the front, face bathed in light from the lantern, the white fur from her hood hiding her hat, her mittens gripping the handle of her star. She tilted her head slightly as they drew up opposite the store until she spied the people she was looking for. Breaking protocol, she waved to them, her smile a little sunbeam of pure joy.

  “God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay.” The children, nearly thirty in all, marched down the street, turning from Jackson onto Clay. Their voices carried through the clear night air, and as they marched, the onlookers joined in with the tune. Even a block over on Mill Street, Kate could hear when the song changed to “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”

  Kate shifted in her chair again. “Oscar, can you help me stand?”

  He was at her side instantly. “What do you need?”

  “Just to get to my feet. I think it would be easier. I’ve had a bit of a backache today, and this chair isn’t helping.”

  He put out his arms for her to hold on to, and she slid to the edge of the seat and stood. “Maybe we need to head home.”

  “No, this is better. All bent over like that, it’s hard to get enough air in my lungs sometimes.” She smiled. “Should we start toward the church? If we go now, we’ll be able to see them come around the corner.”

  Others had the same idea, and Oscar held Kate back until the porch steps were clear. The church was across the street from the north end of the mercantile, perhaps forty yards away.

  “This time, I will walk.”

  “If you do, you’ll have to put up with my arm around your waist.”

  “What waist?” She laughed. “But I will be grateful for your assistance.”

  His support along her lower back pushed away some of the ache. The board sidewalk extended to the street corner, and someone had cleared it of snow, so the early going wasn’t too bad. When they crossed the street, Oscar slowed their pace to a crawl, and Kate concentrated on walking carefully across the packed and rutted snow.

  To their right, the children turned back onto Buchanan, the lanterns swinging on the poles.

  “She’s having the time of her life.” Oscar helped Kate onto the church steps. “I wonder if she will sleep at all tonight.”

  “Eventually, but the anticipation is good. It’s good to have something for which to look forward.” She paused, wincing. “My back is going to be glad when this baby is born. It’s been achy off and on all day.”

  “Let’s get you inside to a seat before the kids get here.”

  As they entered the small vestibule, they nearly collided with Martin. He had been backed up to the door by a tall, gray-haired man, and when Kate leaned to the side, she saw it was Mr. Siddons. What was he doing here on Christmas Eve?

  “I’m telling you, Amaker. It’s a fair price. I want the deal done by New Year’s. I’ve got a crew of men coming over from Mankato, and they’re going to see about moving that barn off the property to a place near West Concord. Just take the deal.” Mr. Siddons was crowding Martin, looming over him.

  Oscar put himself between Kate and the men and said, “Is there a problem here?”

  His voice was low, but the strength in it sent a thrill through Kate.

  “No problem,” Mr. Siddons snapped. “Except that this old fool doesn’t know a good offer when he hears one.”

  “Gentlemen, I would suggest we continue this discussion at a more appropriate time.”

  Mr. Siddons glared, but he stepped aside so the churchgoers could continue to file in. “I suggest you talk to Kleiner over at the bank, because I bought the note on your farm yesterday. Either you make the mortgage payment on the second of January, or I take the farm. If you’re going to sell, you should sell now before I just take the property when you can’t pay the mortgage. I’ll get it sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.”

  Kate gripped Oscar’s arm. Mr. Siddons now held the note on their farm?

  Oscar’s hand came down over hers, and he squeezed. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. For now, forget about it.” He guided
her past Siddons, indicating that Martin should go into the church ahead of them. As he drew abreast of Mr. Siddons, he said, “Come out to the farm on the second, and we’ll settle the matter then. Until then, leave the Amakers alone.”

  Inge waited in a pew on the left-hand side, and Kate followed Martin in and sat down. She removed her mittens and scarf and untied her cloak. Oscar sat beside her, shedding his own outer garments, his face stern. The encounter in the vestibule had unsettled her, and she was glad Oscar had been there to take charge.

  “Grossvater? What are we going to do?”

  He patted her hand and shook his head. “You are not to worry about it. I am not going to worry, either. I promised Oscar that I would enjoy Christmas, and I want you to promise me that you will, too. Remember that not even a sparrow falls but that our Heavenly Father knows. And you’re more valuable to Him than a sparrow.”

  Kate nodded, but it was hard to quell the disquiet in her heart.

  The church was well-lit, with the reflectors behind the wall lamps spreading illumination to every corner and the pendant lamps shining on their long chains. The coal stove glowed cherry-red, and Pastor Tipford stood at the front with his hands clasped before him, rocking on his toes, a broad smile on his face.

  The children lined up at the back door, their shoes scuffling on the hardwood, whispering and giggling and milling about as they all found their places. Mrs. Tipford entered, walking backward so she could see her little charges. Two-by-two they came up the aisle, holding their stars high, singing “The First Noel” in high, clear voices. Liesl lined up on the front row as they turned to face the congregation. Mrs. Hale pumped away on the little organ.

  Kate looked from one face to the next, returning often to Liesl’s, and a lump grew in her throat. This was her church. This was her place. These were the people who helped make her who and what she was.