Boxed Set: Deep in the Heart of Texas: Hurricane, Mismatched in Texas, Christmas at the Crossroads

by Janice Thompson

  By the time the “all aboard” rang out, Maricella had very nearly changed her mind. However, something about the rumble of the train made her long for Joseph even more. With some assistance from the porter, she boarded the iron horse and sat in a section near the back—a car filled with squirming children, tired mothers, and a handful of folks who looked more like vagabonds than world travelers.

  Resting against the back of the seat, Mari tilted her head to gaze out of the window. “Good-bye, Houston.”

  The train let out a piercing whistle, then jolted as they headed off on their way. Too late for misgivings. Too late for afterthoughts. From this point forth, Maricella would only think of one thing: what she would say to Joseph when they saw one another for the first time. She couldn’t help but smile as she imagined the look on her precious husband’s face when he saw her.

  Immediately the smile faded. What if he scolded? Or worse. What if she couldn’t locate him in Dallas and found herself completely alone?

  Mari shivered. Best to push these thoughts from her mind. No point in worrying about the unknown.

  As if on cue, the baby wrestled a bit within her Maricella drew in a deep breath. Conviction set in right away. What have I done? Have I put my child’s life at risk? And for what—a foolish girl’s whim? A fancy?

  Suddenly she longed for Houston, ached for the boarding house and the comfort of Mrs. Everson’s tantalizing dinner table delights. She longed for the security of the midwife and the ever-present prayers of Mr. Jenkins> She missed her tiny room with its large four-poster bed and oversized wardrobe.

  Maricella squeezed her eyes shut and tried to rest. For hours the train chugged along, headed north on the same track that carried Joseph back and forth. She had often wondered what it might feel like to make this journey. Now she could speak from firsthand experience.

  Outside her window the dry grasses of the Texas flatlands rolled by. They offered little to encourage the Christmas spirit. In fact, they seemed almost to mock it. Mari rested against the seat and allowed her thoughts to drift to the holiday. Childhood memories of Christmases spent sipping hot chocolate and nibbling at her mother’s holiday sweets served to bring a smile to her lips. How many years had she gathered around the tree on Christmas morning with her seven brothers and sisters, singing, “Noche de paz, noche de amor.”

  The little melody for “Silent Night” now wrapped her in its grip, and she hummed as the memories continued to flood over her. Other recollections surfaced as well. Perhaps, even more than singing, listening to her father read the Christmas story in his big, booming voice had brought the greatest comfort.

  Funny, actually. His God sounded a lot like the one Mr. Jenkins spoke so highly of.

  Mari contemplated the beliefs of the two men and wondered, even then, if she had done herself a disservice by so carefully avoiding the question of the Christ of Christmas. His tale of stables and hay seemed more the stuff of fairy tales.

  Hmm. Perhaps she would have time to dwell on it later.

  Her eyes grew heavy as the thoughts faded, and she dozed until the woman in the seat across from her startled her awake with the words, “They’re serving lunch.”

  Maricella made her way through the crowd of people to the dining car, where she waited some time for a place to sit. She eventually found herself seated across the table from a total stranger—a fellow with a shock of near-white blond hair.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He extended a hand. “Name’s Gabe.”

  She nodded politely. “Maricella Alvarez.”

  “You’re from the Valley.”

  “H. . .how did you know that?” She couldn’t help but stare.

  He shrugged. “Just guessing. To be honest, I’ve never been south of Houston, but I’ve acquired a knack for dialects.”

  Mari shook off her curiosity and turned her thoughts to food. She ordered a sandwich and a steaming bowl of vegetable soup. As she ate, Gabe rambled on and on, chattering about the holiday, the weather, the length of the trip, and the history of the railroad. She did all she could to tune him out.

  As they finished, she thanked her dining partner for a lovely time and headed back to her seat. Once there, she settled back down to rest once more. Just as her eyes slipped shut, the child within began to stir. Oh, not now, bambino. Mama’s too tired to argue with you at the moment. As if on command, the little one relented and grew still.

  Mari took one last look out of the window before giving in to the exhaustion. An uneasy feeling gripped her stomach—a curious tightness. Surely she could benefit from a bit of sleep.

  The grinding of brakes awakened her some time later, along with the raised voices of travelers seated nearby. Mari struggled to remember where she was. She turned to the woman sitting across from her. “W. . .what happened?”

  At that moment, the conductor made an appearance in the car. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve run into a bit of a problem. A section of track is out just north of here, and I’m afraid we’re going to have to stop.”

  Stop? For how long?

  He disappeared into the next car and Mari turned to her neighbor. “Where are we?”

  “From my calculations, we’re just a few miles shy of Centerville,” the man to her left responded.

  “Centerville?” She looked out of the window again, the late afternoon sun nearly blinding.

  “It’s about halfway between Houston and Dallas.” The fellow yawned. “A scheduled stop. It’s not a very large town, but there’s a comfortable hotel. I’m sure the railroad will put us up for the night.”

  “Put us up in a hotel? On Christmas Eve?” Fear niggled at Maricella. I’ve only made it halfway. I’ll never get to Joseph by Christmas. Indeed, her impulsive plan seemed destined to fail.

  A half hour later, the conductor reappeared. “We’ll be taking you in shifts to the hotel in Centerville—women and children first, men to follow.”

  With the sting of fresh tears in her eyes, Maricella made her way off of the train. She kept one hand on her belly, the other clutching her bag. As she stood in the middle of the field, she felt a presence at her side.

  “Don’t be afraid.” A familiar male voice spoke.

  She looked over to find Gabe standing beside her. His expression, peaceful and serene, lifted her spirits immediately. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. I feel so…”

  “Alone?” He spoke with authority and a sense of knowing.

  A lone tear trickled down Mari’s cheek. “Yes, alone. And so very foolish.” She bowed her head and the tears fell.

  “Nothing to feel foolish about,” he assured her. “I’m sure you’ve a wonderful reason for being here.”

  A slight twisting in Maricella’s belly distracted her momentarily. “I. . .I. . .”

  “I’ll stick by you till you’re safely on the buggy. I don’t want you out here amongst the people by yourself.”

  “Thank you.” She rubbed a hand across her midsection, curious as to the sudden tension there. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “Oh, it will be. Of that I can assure you.” He flashed a confident smile, then took her by the arm and led her to the buggy. With an extended hand, he helped her up into the seat then gave her a curious look as she struggled with the ever-growing pain. “Are you not well?”

  She bit her lip, unable to speak—at least for now. “I. . .I’m not sure. I’m feeling a bit. . .”

  Gabe immediately snapped to attention. “Ah, I see. Well, I’ll be coming along for the ride, then.” He took charge of the situation right away, boarding the buggy and taking the spot next to her. “My home is in Centerville. My wife will know what to do.”

  “B. . .but. . .the hotel?”

  “The hotel will be filled with frustrated travelers, vying for rooms. That will never work for you. Besides, my Angela will know what’s best,” he explained. “And she’s worked as a midwife before.”

  “Midwife?” Another pain gripped her middle and Maricella drew in ad eep b
reath. “It’s too soon for a midwife. The baby isn’t due for another month.”

  “Yes, well. . .” His eyebrows raised as the horse-drawn buggy began to move. “We’ll see about that.”

  Maricella found it difficult to focus as they barreled their way toward Centerville. When they reached the large home set in the middle of exquisite ranchland, she breathed a sigh of relief. A hot bath and a good night’s sleep and I’ll be as good as new.

  At that very moment, another pain gripped her.

  A lovely woman emerged from the house with a broad smile on her face. Her white hair, swept up in a lovely comb, seemed curiously out of place in such a rustic setting, and her cheeks glowed pink against the setting sun. Gabe’s feet no sooner hit the ground than she wrapped him in a loving embrace. “Gabriel!”

  “I’ve missed you, Angel,” he said. “But I’m afraid we’ve got a visitor who needs your attention more than I do.”

  Angela looked up with compassionate eyes, and Maricella at once felt safe.

  “Oh, my dear!” The older woman nodded, understanding fully. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Mari exited the buggy as soon as the pain left. Angela led her into the beautiful home and through the doors of the front bedroom.

  “Do you have a nightgown in that bag, dear?”

  “I. . .I do.” She fumbled to open the traveling case, but underneath her trembling hands it would not cooperate.

  “Let me help you with that.” Angela easily opened the bag then reached inside. “Now let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

  Less than ten minutes later Mari sat in the bed, wrapped up in a down comforter with a cup of hot tea in her hands. The birthing pains came more consistently now. No denying the inevitable. Her long-awaited child would shortly enter the world.

  ***

  Joseph fidgeted in his seat on the southbound train and glanced at his watch for the hundredth time: 6:11 p.m. To his right, the sun pressed itself beyond the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow across a near-dark sky. Within minutes, it would disappear altogether.

  “Your pass, please, Joseph.” Longtime friend and conductor Carter Winthorpe extended a hand.

  Joseph Pulled out his traveling pass—just one of the luxuries his employment provided. “Here you go.”

  The elderly man’s thick handlebar moustache furrowed a bit as he punched a hole through the card. “Not often we see you as a passenger, eh?”

  “No, and I can’t say that I like it much.” Joseph shook his head in frustration. “Are you sure you can’t put me to work? I feel so useless sitting here.”

  “Nope.” The conductor chuckled. “We’ve got all the brakemen we need on this run.”

  Joseph leaned back against the seat the contemplated his situation. Things certainly had a habit of not going as planned. When word came that he could leave the Dallas area, he’d been elated. With no time to contact Mari, he’d just have to surprise her.

  But now, from what he’d just been told, a loose section of track about twenty minutes south might disrupt his plans. They would stop somewhere near the crossroads. And there they would remain until morning.

  Christmas morning. A morning he’d planned to spend wrapped in Maricella’s arms, kissing away the tears of the past two weeks.

  Joseph cringed. “Lord, why?” Why on such as night as this when his hopes and plans seemed within his grasp?

  The train came to a grinding halt just minutes north of Centerville. From here passengers would face two possibilities: either stay onboard till morning, or travel to town for a room at the hotel.

  He opted for the second. Even in his exhausted state, the idea of sleeping in this seat didn’t settle well.

  Half an hour later Joseph found himself in the most crowded hotel lobby he’d ever seen. Babies cried, women scolded, and seedy-looking men hovered nearby, the stench of alcohol so strong on their breath that he could scarcely pass by without feeling ill.

  He shrugged in the hotel clerk’s direction. “No rooms?”

  The exhausted fellow behind the desk shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. A spot in the lobby is about the best we can offer at this point. I’m so sorry.”

  I would have done better to stay on the train.

  Joseph slid down on the floor and rested his aching back against the wall. He needed a soft bed, not this ridiculous inconvenience. Still, he settled in and tried to sleep, doing everything in his power not to think about Maricella.

  A rush of cold air swept by as a man with white-blond hair raced into the lobby. “Excuse me!” he paused to catch his breath. “I’m looking for someone who speaks Spanish!”

  The hotel clerk gave a shrug, and look about. “Does anyone here speak Spanish? Habla espanole?”

  Joseph chuckled at the fellow’s poor attempt at the language, but his curiosity certainly kept his attention focused on the clerk. When no one else responded, he finally said, “I. . .I speak Spanish.”

  “Oh, praise God.” The blond man clapped his hands together. “Would you mind coming with me? In exchange for your time, I can offer you a hot meal and a warm bed.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Certainly sounds better than what I’ve got here.” Joseph rose from his spot and followed the anxious gentleman to a car outside.

  Where they were headed, he had no idea.

  ***

  “You’re doing just fine, honey. Just fine.”

  Maricella gritted her teeth and bore down, the pressure too intense to speak. She gasped for breath and Angela wiped her brow with a damp cloth.

  “Oh, el dolor!” The pain! The pain!

  Try as she might, Mari couldn’t make the words come out in English. Not now. She felt the urge to push and reached up to grip the headboard. “No mas,” she groaned. No more.

  Angela approached the foot of the bed, eyes widening. “We’re getting close now. Won’t be long.”

  At that moment, a flash of lights outside the window distracted Maricella.

  “Oh, thank God,” Angela exclaimed. “Gabe’s home.”

  Mari bit her lip and fought to stay focused.

  A rap sounded at the door and Gabe’s loving voice ran out. “I’ve got someone here who speaks Spanish. What should we do? Should I send him in?”

  “Him?” Mari’s response came out in English, and she shook her head, near frantic. “No! Not a man! Not now.”

  Off in the distance, a clock chimed midnight. At that very moment, Maricella gave herself over to the delivery of the child. Nothing, no one, could stop the process now. Moments later, her son made his entrance—and the whole room suddenly felt like Christmas.

  “Oh, mi hijo! Mi hijo!” Oh, my little son!

  Suddenly the door to the room burst open. Maricella lifted her eyes in terror. Who would interrupt such a private and sacred moment? The shadow of a man she knew quite well fell across the bed. “J. . .Joseph?”

  “Mari!” Joseph’s eyes filled with tears “I knew your voice. I knew it!” The weeping began in earnest now. “And when I heard the baby’s cry. . .” He leaned his head into her arm, tears flowing.

  Mari trembled in shock. “But, how did you. . .how did you get here?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked up with tear-stained eyes. “I truly don’t. But I’m here. That’s all that matters now.”

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  Joseph gazed at his son in awe. “We’ll call him Jacob, si? After your father?”

  “Jacob. Si.” She nodded then cradled the infant in her arms.

  With a loving nod, Angela slipped out of the room, leaving them alone.

  “It’s Christmas,” Joseph whispered.

  A lump grew in Mari’s throat. For some reason, her father’s prayer rose to her memory once again and suddenly she understood, truly understood. Oh, Lord, I see! In this child’s eyes, I see.

  Outside the door, Gabe and Angela broke into song, their voices blended in angelic refrain.

  “Silent night, holy night”
rang out across the house.

  Maricella closed her eyes and drank in the wonder. With her baby nestled in her arms and her husband at her side, revelation came in steady waves.

  This night, this holy Christmas night, she had not only witness a miracle. . .

  She had truly participated in one.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Award-winning author Janice Thompson got her start in the industry writing screenplays and musical comedies for the stage. Janice has published over 100 books for the Christian market, crossing genre lines to write cozy mysteries, historicals, romances, nonfiction books, devotionals, children’s books and more. She particularly enjoys writing light-hearted, comedic tales because she enjoys making readers laugh. Janice is passionate about her faith and does all she can to share the joy of the Lord with others, which is why she particularly enjoys writing. Her tagline, “Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters!” sums up her take on life.

  Janice lives in Spring, Texas, where she leads a rich life with her family, a host of writing friends, and two mischievous dachshunds. When she’s not busy writing or playing with her eight grandchildren, she can be found in the kitchen, baking specialty cakes and cookies for friends and loved ones. No matter what Janice is cooking up—books, cakes, cookies or mischief—she does her best to keep the Lord at the center of it all. You can find out more about this wacky author at www.janiceathompson.com.

  If you enjoyed these three Texas stories, why not check out Janice’s contemporary Texas romances? Start with Texas Weddings One and Two. There are plenty more after that!