Greg caught her arm and stopped her again. “Now, don’t get your bloomers in a twist, Dora,” Greg said, patting his wife soothingly on the back with a skill borne by much practice. “I just want our children to know the love and happiness we’ve shared over the years. You wouldn’t want any less for them, would you?”
“No, I suppose I wouldn’t,” Dora said, softening at her husband’s words. Deep in her heart she knew what Greg said was true, no matter how much it galled her to admit it.
Putting his arm around her shoulders, they continued on their walk. “Good. So what do you say to giving Filly a chance?”
“Fine,” Dora said, still miffed that she hadn’t been the one to choose Luke’s wife. Thinking of the things that Filly could do her snooty friends’ offspring could not, she finally offered Greg a sly smile. “She is quite a good cook. Did you try one of those pralines she made yesterday?”
“No. There were fresh pralines? I must find one as soon as we get back,” Greg said, his mouth watering at the thought of more treats.
Chapter Nineteen
“A little to the left. A little more. No, you’ve gone too far now,” Dora directed as Luke and Greg tried to place the tree exactly where she wanted it.
Luke was quickly losing patience but swallowed down the less than polite reply he wanted to make and inched the tree back to the right.
“Perfect. That is the perfect spot,” Dora said, clapping her hands in delight.
“About time we found it, too,” Luke heard his dad grumble from the other side of the tree.
Stepping back, Luke admired the perfectly formed branches of the tree Filly selected. She had chosen just the right one.
“Filly, where did you put the box of ornaments we found in the attic?” Luke asked as his wife entered the room with a big bowl of popcorn, needles and thread.
“In the hall closet,” she said, sitting down on the couch and threading a needle. “I thought we could make popcorn strings for the tree.
Dora looked down her nose at Filly. “Isn’t that primitive.” Whatever else she was going to say was squelched with a look from Greg.
“Dora, why don’t you help Filly with the popcorn while Luke and I get out the ornaments?”
“Fine,” Dora said, sitting next to Filly and picking up a needle. “But I think the two of you better come help with this, too, or we’ll be here until the New Year stringing popcorn.”
“Oh,” Greg said, looking helplessly at Luke, hoping he had some plan or escape. Luke had none. The four of them began stringing popcorn. Luke and Greg ate as much as they put on the strings, but they laughed and told stories and enjoyed the time together.
When they finished, they put the strings on the tree and added the ornaments. Dora had fond memories of several of the decorations, telling Filly where she bought them or how she came to have them. At the bottom of the box, there was a small brown paper angel that had seen better days. Dora lovingly fingered it before hanging it on the tree.
“Mother Granger,” Filly said, resting her hand on the older woman’s arm. “That one seems special to you. Where did you get it?”
“My mother made it for me when I was a little girl. One year, we were so poor, we knew we wouldn’t have a Christmas at all, but my mother managed to make us all something that year. She made me this angel and I’ll never forget thinking it was the best present I ever received.” Dora wiped a tear from her eye. “Quite silly of me, I’m sure.”
“Not at all,” Filly said, impetuously giving Dora a hug. Filly liked her better in that moment than she had since she met her. “So you didn’t grow up in a wealthy home?”
“Goodness no,” Dora admitted, albeit reluctantly. “We were as poor as dirt. I had three brothers and they all passed on before reaching adulthood. I was the only one to survive. So I decided to do whatever I could to make sure I was never poor or hungry again. I was working in a dry goods store when I met Mr. Granger. I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on. He must have liked me a little, too, because he seemed to need to purchase some new item on a weekly basis. I was quite a looker, then.”
“You still are, my darling,” Greg said, giving Dora a kiss to her cheek. “I took one look at her and lost my heart. Much like our son seems to have lost his to you.”
“Oh, well, I…” Filly said, clearly flustered.
Luke came to her rescue. “Filly caught me completely by surprise, but I know now meeting her was second best day of my life.”
“What was the first,” his father asked, with a cheeky grin.
“The day she became my wife,” Luke said, looking at her with his icy blue eyes melting into hot liquid pools. Giving her a wicked grin, he held a bit of mistletoe above his head and waggled his brows at her.
“Go on, kiss your husband,” Dora encouraged, surprising everyone in the room.
Filly placed her hands around Luke’s neck and pulled his face down to hers. His lips were warm and soft and she felt tingles race from her head to her toes as Luke quickly deepened the kiss, his hands firmly holding her waist. Coming to her senses, Filly finally pulled back and blushed.
“Now, that’s getting the job done,” Greg teased, slapping Luke on the back. Pointing at the mistletoe, he raised an eyebrow at his son. “Maybe you better give that to me for safe keeping.”
Dora smacked his outstretched hand. “Don’t get any wild ideas, Mr. Granger.”
Luke and Filly both laughed.
With the tree trimmed, they enjoyed a light lunch of chicken soup and bread, followed by a plate of assorted sweets. Dora went to her room for a nap while Luke and Greg decided to run down to the bank so Harlan could leave early. Luke planned to take care of a few things then close the bank at three.
Filly began preparations for Christmas Eve dinner. The roast was in the oven, pumpkin and apple pies were made, she had sweet potatoes ready to bake and canned vegetables ready to heat. They would enjoy a fruit salad made with canned peaches and pears, along with fresh oranges from a shipment that arrived at the Bruner’s store yesterday. A batch of fluffy biscuits would complete the evening meal.
Planning to take a platter of treats to the church that night to enjoy after the service, Filly was pulling the last baking sheet of cookies out of the oven when Percy knocked on the back door.
“Merry Christmas, Percy,” Filly said, inviting him into the house. “What can I do for you?”
“Pastor Dodd asked me to come fetch Mr. Luke. He said he needed his help setting up for the program.”
“Mr. Luke is at the bank with his father, at least I think that is where they are,” Filly said, removing her apron as she glanced at the clock. “He said he planned to close up early, but he should have been home by now. Why don’t I just walk with you back to town and we’ll see if we can find him together?”
Filly was pulling on her coat when Dora walked into the room. “Going somewhere, dear?”
“Yes. Chauncy needs Luke so Percy and I are going to see if he is still at the bank. Would you like to come along?” Filly hoped Dora would say no, but managed a smile when she said yes. To hurry things along, she asked Percy to run to the front door and collect Dora’s coat and hat.
Percy ran back into the kitchen, staring at the hat with big, round eyes. He started to say something, but Filly caught his attention and shook her head. Nodding in understanding, he stood quietly while Dora put on her coat and pinned on the hat.
Dora walked out the door while Filly scooped up a handful of still-warm cookies and handed them to Percy who grinned appreciatively. Taking a huge bite, he walked along with the women, asking about the dinner menu for the next day, since he and his sister along with his parents would be joining them.
As they approached the bank, Filly noticed Luke hung a closed sign in the window. They were turning to go on down the street when a movement caught her eye. Pressing her face to the glass, she peered inside and saw Greg and Luke standing behind his desk with a man wildly waving a gun at them
.
“Percy, I need you to run get Pastor Dodd as fast as your legs can carry you. Tell him it’s an emergency,” Filly said, giving Percy a shove down the sidewalk. He took off running like his life depended on his speed.
Turning to Dora, Filly gripped her shoulders. “I think the bank is about to be robbed, please go home where it’s safe, Mother Granger. I’ll wait here until Chauncy arrives.”
“What?” Dora shrieked. Filly quickly pulled her around the corner away from the windows so they wouldn’t be seen. Shaking off Filly’s hand, she straightened her spine and gave Filly a hard glare. “If that is true, I’m not going anywhere. That is my husband and son in there.”
“But, Mother Granger,” Filly began, then released a sigh. Arguing with the stubborn woman would get her nowhere. “Fine. Just be quiet and stay behind me. If you hear any gunfire, throw yourself to the ground.”
The women crept back around the corner and Filly again looked in the window. The gunman looked familiar. Too familiar. Biting back a groan, Filly didn’t stop to think, instead yanking open the door and rushing inside the bank.
“Pa, what on earth do you think you are doing?” Filly said, grabbing her father’s arm. He was drunk, that much was obvious. If the fact he couldn’t stand up straight wasn’t a big enough hint, the reeking smell of liquor would remove any doubts.
“I’ve come to get what’s owed me. Luke can keep ya, but he got more than my debt. He ain’t got no idea how valuable a good cook and housekeeper is. I was robbed, I tell ya. Robbed by him with his thievin’ bargain,” Alford said in his nasally tone. Turning his head, he seemed to study his daughter for a moment. “And don’t ya look all smart and spiffy in yer fancy clothes, miss too-good-for-her-pa. That’s right. I’ve seen ya prancin’ around town with that preacher’s wife, actin’ like yer somebody.”
Alford shook off her hand and spit at her feet. “Yer, nothin’ girl. Ya never were nothin’ and ya’ll never be nothin’. If yer husband wants to live to see tomorra, he better pay up or I’m takin’ ya back to the farm.”
“Leave Luke out of this, Pa,” Filly said, standing straight and tall, glaring at her father. “None of this is his fault. None of this is my fault. It’s all you. You are nothing but a mean, sorry, pitiful drunk who chooses to live a despicable life.”
Alford backhanded her before anyone could blink. Filly caught herself before she fell to the floor. Luke started to rush forward, but Alford waved his gun menacingly his direction.
“Shut yer trap and keep it shut,” Alford ordered. “I mean to get somethin’ for my troubles, and I’m not leavin’ until I do.”
“Put the gun down, Pa. Just put it down and we’ll all forget this happened,” Filly said, walking slowly toward him again.
Something in her had changed. Filly was no longer afraid of her father. Luke could see it in her eyes and the way she stood. He was terrified she was going to try to wrestle the gun away from the drunk. The way he saw it, he had one chance to tackle Alford and take the gun before he shot somebody.
While Filly was talking, she sent Luke a pleading look. She wanted him to stay back, but it wasn’t in him to stand by while the woman he loved put herself in danger on his behalf.
“Pa, what would Mama say if she could see you? Do you think she’d be pleased at the person you’ve become? Do you think she’d approve of your lying and drinking and abuse? Do you think she would love a man who beats his daughter, cheats his neighbors and holds people at gunpoint?” Filly said, watching her words sink into her father’s drunken mind. He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge the questions. Luke took the opportunity to edge around the desk. Inching slowly forward, he hoped to get to Filly before her father did something they would all regret.
Motioning his head at Greg, Luke hoped he would sneak outside and go for help. His dad seemed to understand what he was trying to communicate and slowly worked his way toward the door.
Filly was once again standing next to her father, her hand hovering above his arm, hesitant to touch him. “Pa, do you remember when Mama was alive, how happy we all were, how much you loved us. You were such a good papa then. Do you remember?”
Alford seemed to be struggling, whether it was to remember or forget, Luke didn’t know, but he watched as the drunk closed his eyes and swayed on his feet, giving Greg time to quietly sneak out the door. Filly glanced up and watched him hug Dora, then look down the street. He didn’t move, so Filly assumed help must be on the way.
Opening his eyes, Alford yelled, “No!” and swung the gun around wildly. “Don’t want to remember, hurts too much. I’ve warned ya enough, gal, to shut yer trap. Ya never did know when to be quiet. I’m tired of hearin’ yer jawing. I’ll shut ya up once and for all.”
Alford pulled back the trigger and aimed the gun at Filly. Luke launched himself at his wife, planning to take the bullet for her, at the same moment the door burst open with a deputy running inside followed by Chauncy. Alford swiveled in surprise and the gun discharged.
“No, Alford!” Luke yelled. “What have you done?”
Chapter Twenty
Pulling his watch out of his pocket, Luke glanced at the time and snapped the lid shut. Getting up from the table, he looked around the kitchen. It seemed so empty without Filly’s bright spirit.
“We better get going if we’re going to make it to the service on time,” Dora said, patting his arm as she and Greg also stood from the table.
“I suppose so,” Luke said, lingering by the door, lost in his thoughts.
“Good gracious, with those long faces you look as if we’re heading to a funeral instead of Christmas Eve services,” Filly said as she breezed into the room. Following the afternoon’s excitement, she had to hurry to get dinner on the table and the kitchen set to rights before the church service.
Taking a moment to run upstairs, she changed her dress and repinned her hair before they left. Stuffing her arms into the sleeves of the coat Luke held for her, she looked at Greg and Dora with a smile. “Don’t we need to get going?”
Luke drank in the sight of her, grateful for the hundredth time in the last few hours that she was alive and unhurt. He wasn’t sure what had transpired today inside Filly, but the spirit he had glimpsed on occasion had burst out of confinement and transformed his wife into the person she was always meant to be - a vibrant, shining light.
Earlier that afternoon, when the deputy and Chauncy burst into the bank, Alford’s bullet grazed the deputy’s arm and shattered the glass in the door. Chauncy tackled Alford before he could do any more damage and helped the deputy haul him off to jail. Alford was sobbing uncontrollably as they took them away, begging Filly to forgive him. She assured him she did, and promised to come visit him if he would stay sober.
“But Filly, your father,” Dora said, looking sad and contrite. “I…you must…I’m so sorry, dear girl.”
“I’m sorry I told you my father was dead, but he has been dead to me all these years. Maybe now, if he sobers up and stays that way, I can have my papa back again.” Filly took Dora’s hands in her own, still surprised over the supportive way her mother-in-law had reacted to the afternoon’s events. Filly assumed once Dora knew about her father, the woman would dislike her even more. Instead, Dora had wrapped Filly up in a mother’s loving arms and offered her encouragement.
“No need for all this gloom, especially on Christmas Eve,” Filly said with a tender glance at the three Grangers, who stood staring at her in surprise. “Look what a gift I’ve been given by Luke. Not only do I have a wonderful husband, who would willingly save my life with his own, but a new mother and a father. I don’t see a thing to be sad about this evening, Mother Granger. This is a night for rejoicing and miracles.”
Dora brushed at the tears on her cheeks and pulled Filly into a genuine hug. “I think you better just call me mother, dear.”
“I’d like that very much.” Filly kissed her cheek and hugged her back. “Now let’s go to church. Chauncy might scold us if we
show up late.”
Luke cleared his throat and smiled at his wife with the depths of his love for her filling his eyes. “You heard the woman, let’s go.”
Dora walked out of the house wearing Filly’s best hat, since her hat was destroyed that afternoon. When Greg heard the gun discharge, he threw Dora to the ground and covered her body with his own. In some mysterious turn of events that no one could or would explain, Dora’s hat was torn loose from her head and somehow sailed into the street where a passing wagon ran over it. Percy made a valiant effort to rescue it, but the hat was beyond saving.
Luke had a very good idea how the hat met its demise, but he wouldn’t ever mention it, especially when Greg fought to hide a grin every time Dora lamented the loss of her beloved hat.
Walking down the sidewalk, Filly insisted they link arms and led them in a rousing chorus of “Joy to the World.” Arriving at the church full of laughter and good cheer, Chauncy greeted them with a happy smile at the door.
“How good it is to see each one of you here tonight,” Chauncy said, giving the men handshakes and the women hugs. “That is a smart looking hat, Mrs. Granger.”
“Oh, thank you,” Dora said, patting her hair. “Is there a place left to sit by Abby. I would dearly love to hold that baby.”
“She saved seats in the front row,” Chauncy said with a smile, winking at Luke.
Chauncy’s sermon was simple and heartfelt reminding those in attendance of the reason the holiday season is celebrated. He encouraged them to give “gifts of love” not only at Christmas, but throughout the year, to keep the season alive in their hearts.
After his message, the children of the church performed a Christmas program. Percy was Joseph while the little Jenkins girl portrayed Mary. The two of them sat carefully watching baby Erin, who slept through her first performance, playing baby Jesus in her cradle. No mice were turned loose, although the sheep got away from a shepherd and ran down the aisle bleating toward the door, which brought a round of jolly laughter from the congregation.
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