‘‘Come February you’ll tire of it quickly enough,’’ Nolan declared. He positioned the tree in the corner of the parlor and stood back to observe. ‘‘There. That should serve us quite nicely.’’
‘‘Grandmother and I have made the decorations,’’ Jasmine announced. ‘‘And we have the most marvelous candles to attach to the boughs. It’s going to be beautiful.’’
Nolan smiled, his gaze never leaving her. ‘‘I have no doubt.’’
She smiled in return, knowing in her heart that this time next Christmas, things might be very different between her and Nolan.
He’d not even hinted at his feelings, but she could see in his eyes— his expression—that he was feeling much the same as she.
On Christmas morning Jasmine awoke to a wondrous stillness. Spencer was sleeping soundly in the cradle by her bed. She’d had Kiara move him here because she enjoyed tending him herself. Kiara completely understood and because there was no longer anything to fear from Bradley, she relished the idea of going back to her own room.
Rolling to her side, Jasmine watched her son as he slept. From time to time he would suck at the air, his little lips pursing and relaxing in rhythm. It wouldn’t be long before he awoke, demanding his breakfast.
Jasmine yawned and threw back the covers. The room was quite warm in spite of the chilly weather outside. Kiara was always good to slip in early and stir up the fire. Jasmine didn’t know how the girl managed to do it so quietly, but she never disturbed Jasmine’s sleep.
A quick look out the window revealed it was snowing. It seemed rather perfect for the day. Jasmine pulled on her robe and for the strangest reason thought of Bradley. She almost expected him to come bounding into the room demanding his son.
‘‘His son,’’ she mused. ‘‘As if I had no part in his existence.’’
She took up her Bible and, as had become her practice, settled into reading and praying. Still the thoughts of Bradley would not leave her.
‘‘What is it I need to ponder, Lord? Is there something here about Bradley that I yet need to know?’’ Anger edged her tone, surprising Jasmine. ‘‘He’s dead. Dead and buried and gone from my life. I need never think of him again.’’
But she knew that wasn’t true. Spencer was proof of that. She would always have some part of Bradley in her life. The thought chilled her. Surprised by her reaction, Jasmine got up and began to pace. Still clinging to the Bible, she tried to sort through her scattered thoughts.
He was a cruel man. He demanded so much of us and nothing of himself. He stole my father’s money and my innocence—as well as Kiara’s. With each thought, Jasmine felt her anger mount.
He lied and cheated and wounded people just for sport. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad he’s gone. I don’t want Spencer to ever know him. I don’t want Spencer tainted by his father’s blood.
She paused long enough to look down on her child. Bradley’s child. He even looked somewhat like his father, only Jasmine comforted herself by believing he looked more like Bradley’s mother and Nolan. She drew a ragged breath and suddenly realized she was crying.
‘‘I don’t want you to be like him,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Please, God, don’t let Spencer grow up to be like Bradley.’’
You must forgive Bradley.
The thought was startling. Jasmine stepped back and shook her head. ‘‘I don’t want to forgive him. He didn’t ask for forgiveness.
He didn’t believe himself guilty of anything. Why should I forgive him?’’
Jasmine tried to steady her breathing and calm her anger. ‘‘Forgiveness— that’s asking an awful lot, Lord.’’
She went to her rocking chair and sat back down. Shaking her head, Jasmine opened the Bible again, but she couldn’t see the words for all of her tears. A knock sounded on the door and before she could acknowledge it, Kiara peeked in.
‘‘Are ya all right?’’ she asked, then stopped. ‘‘No, for sure I can see that ya are na all right.’’ She came into the room unbidden.
‘‘Now, what would be causin’ ya such grief on the day of the Lord’s birth?’’
Jasmine lowered her face and shook her head again. ‘‘I don’t wish to discuss it.’’
Kiara surprised her by kneeling beside the rocker. ‘‘My heart is breakin’ for ya. Please let me share yar burden.’’
‘‘It’s Bradley,’’ Jasmine said finally. She looked up and met Kiara’s stunned look.
‘‘And how would that man be causin’ ya problems today?’’
‘‘I don’t know. I just started thinking about him and I got so angry. All I wanted to do was shout and scream, and if Spencer hadn’t been sleeping right here, I probably would have.’’ Jasmine tried to push down her rage, but it resurfaced. ‘‘That man hurt so many people. People I love and care about. He hurt my father and mother—my brothers. He hurt my uncles and their families and you. Oh, I can’t even bear to think about the pain he caused you.’’
Jasmine buried her face in her hands, but Kiara reached up and drew them down.
‘‘Miss Jasmine, ya can na go on like this. For sure, Bradley Houston caused a lot of hurt and sufferin’, but he’s gone. He can na hurt anyone ever again. Ya must forgive ’im and make a new life.’’
Jasmine gasped. ‘‘What did you say?’’
Kiara looked confused. ‘‘I said ya must forgive ’im and make a new life.’’
Jasmine closed her eyes and leaned back in the rocker. ‘‘That’s exactly what God told me. At least the forgiving part. But how can you say that? Can you forgive him for what he did? He stole your innocence. He threatened you. He hurt Paddy and—’’ ‘‘Stop!’’ Kiara said, holding up her hand. ‘‘There’s nothin’ to be gained by such talk. Ya’ll only hurt yarself—and Spencer.’’
‘‘I don’t understand.’’
‘‘I know ’tis hard, but forgiveness truly frees the one who does the forgivin’ as much as it frees the one forgiven. I will not go on through life holdin’ Mr. Bradley a grudge. He’s gone and my grudges can only hurt me—not him. For sure he stole what wasn’t his to take, but God has restored me. Rogan doesn’t care. He knows ’twas not my fault.’’
‘‘He’s a good man.’’
Kiara smiled. ‘‘Aye, he is. And ya’re a good woman, and God is callin’ ya to forgive yar husband. He can na hurt ya anymore, unless ’tis in this manner. If ya go on like this, then Bradley Houston’s wounds will go on as well. Make yar peace, Miss Jasmine.
Forgive him for what he’s done. If ya don’t, ya’ll end up holding yar son a grudge because he’s the only part of Bradley Houston that’s left alive to blame.’’
Spencer began to fuss and Jasmine looked across the room to her son. Blaming her son for Bradley’s mistakes . . . the insight of Kiara’s words made her heart ache.
‘‘Why don’t I take him to the nursery and change him for ya?’’
Kiara suggested. ‘‘Then ya can nurse him.’’
‘‘Thank you.’’ She watched Kiara lovingly lift the baby in her arms. She spoke calmly as she crossed the room with the boy. Jasmine looked to the ornately molded ceiling and sighed.
‘‘Oh, Father, I see the truth. I see what you’ve been trying to show me since Bradley died—maybe even before that. It’s hard to forgive him, but I want to, Lord. I’m asking you to help me forgive him. I don’t know what caused his heart to be so black, for surely he must have been tender and good at some time in his life.’’
She thought of Spencer and how Bradley might have been very much like him as an infant. No doubt his parents had been quite proud and joyous over his birth.
‘‘Help me, Father. I want to forgive and forget the past. I want to forgive Bradley for all that he did against me, for I never want any of it to come between Spencer and me.’’
‘‘Here he is,’’ Kiara called as she returned with the baby. ‘‘He’s mighty hungry and ready for his Christmas breakfast.’’
Jasmine laughed and took her son in her arms.
‘‘Come, my little one.’’ She nuzzled him to her and smiled down into his open eyes. ‘‘My precious little one.’’
The Christmas revelry did much to lift her spirits. Jasmine was quite pleased to receive a lovely ruby brooch from her grandmother, an heirloom that had once belonged to her great-grandmother on her father’s side. She was also deeply touched by a gift of lace from Kiara and a red ribbon for her hair from Paddy.
‘‘Why, Paddy, it’s absolutely perfect and it goes very well with my new brooch.’’ The boy beamed.
‘‘I picked it out meself,’’ he said proudly.
‘‘Aye, I can be vouchin’ for that,’’ Rogan said. ‘‘He took nearly an hour doin’ so.’’
Jasmine laughed. She was so glad that Kiara and Paddy, along with Rogan, had agreed to spend part of their Christmas with them.
‘‘And here’s my gift,’’ Nolan said, reaching behind the couch to pull out a large parcel wrapped in cloth. ‘‘I hope you like it.’’
Jasmine tilted her head to one side, trying to ascertain what Nolan had brought her. As she reached to take the package, Nolan waved her off. ‘‘I’d best hold it while you untie the string. It’s quite heavy.’’
Jasmine worked to unfasten the bindings. When she’d managed this, she pushed back the cloth and gasped. ‘‘Oh!’’
‘‘It’s my family,’’ Nolan explained. ‘‘A family portrait when I was five.’’
She looked into the faces of the Houston family. Bradley’s parents sat regally, while a very young Nolan and a smiling Bradley, fifteen years Nolan’s senior, stood on either side.
‘‘I know it might seem a strange painting, but I wanted you to believe and know that Bradley was not always a bad person. When I was young he was a loving and nurturing older brother. All who knew him were impressed with his manners and gentle nature. At times he seemed more like a father than a brother.’’
Jasmine looked to Kiara and then her grandmother. ‘‘What happened to change him?’’ For the first time she honestly cared to know the truth.
‘‘He would never admit it, but I believe the mantle of responsibility made him old before his time. He was very close to our father, and he longed only to impress him. Little by little it consumed his life—he soon gave up everything that was important to him, even a young woman whom he cared for very much. They had been friends from a young age. They were to be married, but the business distanced Bradley from her and by the time he realized what he had lost, she had married another.’’
‘‘How very sad,’’ Jasmine said, feeling genuine sorrow for her husband.
‘‘I wanted you to have this portrait of our family because it was made at a time when we were all very close and very happy.’’
‘‘Thank you, Nolan. This will be a special gift for Spencer. I will prominently display it that he might take pride in his heritage.’’ She met Kiara’s gaze across the room. The girl smiled broadly.
The forgiving had begun.
That night in her bedroom, Jasmine sat nursing her son. Spencer grew more sleepy by the minute, his eyelids lifting heavily, then closing again. She almost hated for him to fall asleep. With Spencer awake and nursing, Jasmine didn’t feel quite so alone.
‘‘Oh, Spencer. You’ll never know your father firsthand, and in some ways I think that a better way. Yet you are the best of him.
You are the love that he should have known.’’ The baby finally stopped nursing, closing his eyes in sleep.
Jasmine put him to her shoulder and patted him gently on the back. ‘‘He loved you—there’s no doubt of that. I think he honestly loved you more than anyone. You actually made him smile.’’
She thought of her dead husband and the past and knew there was nothing there for her. Nothing but sad memories of a hopeless relationship that could never be put straight. Kiara was right: forgiveness was the better path.
Still, her son was without a father now. She thought of Nolan’s kindness and generous spirit and had to admit that those qualities had always attracted her. She had no desire to be untrue to her vows; she was simply sad that she had never seen those qualities in her husband.
But there was hope. With God, there was always hope.
Putting Spencer in his cradle, Jasmine knelt down and smiled.
‘‘We are in His hands, Spencer, and there’s no other place I’d rather be. We’re going to be fine—you’ll see. For God has already seen our tomorrows and has smoothed the path before us. He has woven our lives as a tapestry of hope. Hope in His love. Hope for all of our tomorrows.’’
Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Page 35
