Spirit of the Valley
Page 29
Although the sunshine was bright, the day was bitingly cold. Frozen snow glistened brilliantly as though countless diamonds were trapped within. Every step they took made the snow crunch. It was a breathtakingly beautiful day.
“I wonder if the hot mulled wine is ready,” Tommy said as they got close to the bunkhouse. His breath fogged in the freezing air.
“Sounds good,” Em agreed.
Nearly at the door, Tommy stopped and turned to her. “My nose is cold, but”—he leaned in to kiss her—“merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she returned.
A burst of laughter came from within and they grinned and hurried inside.
Greg and Charity Howerton were still in their large, elegant bedroom, still in dressing robes, having a lazy morning. They’d slept late and enjoyed breakfast in bed, then exchanged gifts. Charity seemed reticent about handing over the last one, or perhaps she was teasing. He couldn’t tell.
“It’s not exactly for you,” she said. “More for . . . which one of us needs it.”
“Are you going to let me open it?” he asked, since she still had a grip on it.
She let it go and he tore off the wrapping paper. Opening the box, he saw white fabric. It was soft. He pulled it up and saw it was rectangular, like a small blanket, perhaps three feet by four. It was too large for a scarf, too small for a blanket. And she was watching him so strangely. “Give me a hint. Why would I . . . need this?”
“For the same reason you’d need this,” she said, reaching into a corner of the box where something else was wrapped in tissue paper. It was a rattle.
He jerked his gaze to hers, and she laughed and nodded. And glowed. “You mean—” He was afraid to say it, but she nodded fervently. “A baby?” He had to know for sure.
“Yes. We’re going to have a baby.”
He felt delirious and dizzy and overwhelmed—and more gloriously high than he’d ever felt in his entire life. He dropped the blanket and wrapped her in his arms.
His reaction was exactly what she’d hoped for and she clung to him. She’d wanted to tell him her suspicion for over a month, but she didn’t want to build his hopes up for nothing. The truth was, she’d worried she was too old to conceive. She was nearly thirty.
As he pulled back to look at her, the burning wood in the hearth popped. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“Me too.”
“When?”
“July or August.”
He laughed in delight and pulled her back into his arms.
The Sheffield family climbed into the two-seat sleigh for the short ride to the Blues’ for Christmas dinner.
“Ready?” Jeremy asked the children in back. They were sitting close together under a warm plaid lap blanket.
“Can Lucky come, too?” Jake asked.
“He’ll follow,” Jeremy said.
“No, we mean with us,” Rebecca wheedled. “Please?”
Lizzie was about to say no when Jeremy whistled to the dog and Lucky jumped in, to the amusement of the children. It took a little coordination and a shuffling of the lap blanket, but then they were off. Laughing all the way.
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Copyright © 2015 by Jane Shoup
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