For Such a Time as This: A Women of Hope Novel

by Ginny Aiken

  “Wait, wait!”

  When she paused, he approached, a question in his gaze. “You still haven’t told me what you’d like for Christmas. Time is running short, and I do want to give you something you’ll truly enjoy. You’ve done so much for us, for our family, and I want to show you how much I appreciate it.”

  Olivia shrugged. “You’ve given me more than I ever could have expected. I don’t need anything more. I’m happy with my new life.”

  “Please humor me. Take your time, think about it, and let me know. I want to do something special for you, and Christmas is the perfect time.”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll give it some thought. But I honestly am quite content.” She patted his forearm. “Have a good night, Eli. I’ll let you know what Cooky and I decide.”

  Sewing basket slung over one arm, and Randy’s dress draped over the other, Olivia headed down the hall. But as she hurried to find Cooky, the beginnings of an idea began to take shape. There was something she wanted, something only Eli could give her.

  It wouldn’t be a gift of any traditional sort. But it was the one thing Olivia’s life currently lacked. Maybe… maybe there was a solution to her worries. Maybe Eli had given her the way to approach him with the question she as yet hadn’t dared ask.

  The next morning, Eli called Holtwood into his office. “Have you looked into the county’s available land as I asked?”

  Holtwood tucked the papers under his arm. “I’m working on it, sir. I expect to have a proper list for you to look over by tomorrow or the day after—no more than that.”

  “Any details you can offer ahead of the list?”

  “There’s land, and plenty of it, as I’m sure you know, Mr. Whitman. We just need to decide what will be most profitable for us, sir.”

  “You mean for Bountiful, right?”

  “Of course, Mr. Whitman.”

  A soft knock at the partly open door caused both men to look that way. Lewis Parham, the new secretary, held a thick stack of papers in his hand. “I have today’s correspondence ready for your signature, Mr. Whitman. You said you wanted it right away.”

  “Come in, come in,” Eli said. “What do we have?”

  Holtwood cleared his throat. “On top of the letters you dictated to Parham, I suggested he write a number of tentative missives to local landowners. They invite the farmers and ranchers to consider the bank if they have to think of selling out.”

  “I thought we’d agreed on this. I don’t want any pressure applied to them. Not a one of those men is responsible for his situation. They had nothing to do with the weather, much less the grasshoppers.”

  Parham glanced at the papers in his hand. “The missives only suggest a possible solution.” He met Eli’s gaze, his eyes intent, his expression attentive. “No pressure at all, sir.”

  “Let me see one, please.”

  Parham handed Eli the top page. As he scanned the message, Larry Colby stepped into the office.

  “I have the map Holtwood and I have been using to plot out the most probable route for the spur line. I thought you’d want to see it.”

  “Show me what you have there.”

  Colby spread out the map across Eli’s desk, then as he studied the depiction of the region, his spectacles fell right off the end of his long, thin nose. He bent over almost double, reached for the glasses, and in the process, knocked the stack of papers Parham had set on the corner of Eli’s desk to the floor. Eli made a mental note to avoid putting papers in that spot, as it seemed to be particularly tempting to Colby’s clumsiness. The man scrambled around, gathering papers and his belongings, his movements typically nervous and jittery. Finally, he stood again and, with jerky movements, polished his glasses on his jacket sleeve.

  To deflect everyone’s attention, Eli turned to Holtwood again. “You are keeping in mind that this project is to benefit the town of Bountiful, right? It’s not just a matter of the bank making money off the backs of hardworking folks.”

  For a second, Holtwood looked offended. Eli wondered if he’d gone too far with his comment. Then his right-hand man composed himself again.

  “Of course, Mr. Whitman, sir. We need to make sure the railroad deal profits Bountiful.”

  “Are you certain this is the map we discussed? Nothing looks familiar, and the list of properties won’t help me if I can’t show the railroad folks where they’re located within the county.”

  “I’m seeing to that, too, sir. This was the best we could find. I’m waiting for the post to bring a better one I ordered. I hope to have it and the list for you within the day.” He gestured toward the confusing paper Colby had brought in. “We’ve tried to flag on this one the properties we think will offer the best profit for the investment, but of course we’ll see them better on a clearer map.”

  “You mean profit on investment for the railroad, right?”

  “Of course!” Colby said. “I’m sorry we haven’t made it clear. I’ve been dreadfully distracted, what with all the paperwork I’ve been doing for this deal.”

  Eli struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. “Go ahead, then, Colby, Holtwood. Finish up what you were doing, and bring the whole thing to me when it’s done.”

  “Very well,” Holtwood said.

  Colby nodded. “Will do, sir.” He caught his spectacles on their slide toward the tip of his nose. “Will do.”

  Eli turned to Parham. “I suppose these letters are acceptable to send. Leave them here with me, and I’ll have them signed for you in a short while.”

  As the men left the office, Eli breathed a sigh of relief. Holtwood he could handle, and Parham was proving to be an asset to the bank. But if Colby were any less efficient, he’d have replaced the fellow long ago. Yes, at times Eli found him humorous, but after a small dose of the man’s fidgeting, his nerves staged a revolt. Sometimes Eli was tempted to ask the other employees if he made them nervous. But when he walked among the men and spoke with them, he noted no similar jumpiness.

  He sighed. Colby’s problems couldn’t be helped, and Eli had a great deal of work to finish. Time to put his second cashier out of his mind.

  It was also time to think again about the Christmas party he and his new wife were preparing to host. At the thought of Olivia, anticipation filled him. He couldn’t wait to see what new details she’d put together. Working with Olivia was turning out to be more pleasurable than he had expected.

  Olivia herself was turning out to be a splendid wife. He settled back to work, a satisfied smile on his lips.

  “Oh, Mama, I need your help!” Olivia cried as soon as her mother let her go. “I don’t know a thing about entertaining, soirées, galas, or fancy parties. What am I going to do?”

  Elizabeth clucked. “First thing you’ll do, my dear, is take off your cloak and have a cup of tea. Then you should be able to see things more clearly, since I doubt you’ll be so agitated about a simple thing.”

  “A simple thing? Perhaps for you. I’ve never been to a soirée, never mind organizing one. Eli trusts me to do a good job of it. How am I going to do this?”

  Mama placed the cup of tea in front of Olivia, together with a pot of honey and a silver spoon. “Go ahead. Drink up. You’ll feel better, child.”

  Although Olivia savored her sip of tea, she didn’t feel any less anxious about the upcoming gala. “How does one go about putting on such an event? I don’t even know what I should serve all these folks.”

  “Have you spoken with your cook? That dinner on Sunday was simple but tasty and well-prepared. She strikes me as a capable woman.”

  “Cooky is a treasure, Mama. She and I have put our heads together and, with your recipes and ideas in mind, I’ve made suggestions that have improved our meals considerably. Now we’ve come up with some possibilities, but I’m not sure those dishes will be elegant enough for such important guests.”

  “I’ve found that well-seasoned, well-made simple food, served beautifully, is often better than the fussiest of fancy fare. Tell me about thes
e guests, dear. Who will your husband invite?”

  Olivia related the details of her conversations with Eli, explaining the railroad spur line under consideration. As Olivia spoke, Elizabeth listened, a thoughtful expression on her face. When she finished, Mama gave her a quick nod.

  “I think your idea to showcase the blessings of Hope County is excellent. It will make your supper choices much simpler. Will Cooky handle ordering the foodstuffs you can’t find locally?”

  “She says she’ll go through Metcalf’s Mercantile.”

  “Zebediah’s always reliable. I’m sure he’ll take care of finding whatever you need.”

  “Even the food, dishes, and dinnerware we’re missing?”

  “Oh, sure.” Elizabeth pointed toward the generous-sized tureen on a nearby shelf. “He ordered that from San Francisco for me three years ago, and I must say, it arrived in perfect shape, well packaged, and it’s lovely, don’t you think?”

  Olivia nodded. She’d always admired that piece. “If he can do as well for us, then we should be fine. But do you think we still have enough time for him to have what we need shipped here?”

  “That question speaks volumes for your husband’s foresight. I think the spur line could be a blessing for us all. That is, if…”

  If the family held on to its land. If they hung on for another year. If Olivia persuaded Eli to postpone the foreclosure proceedings.

  But this wasn’t the time to fret about those things. She had been charged with a monumental task, and she was determined to carry it out successfully. Then… well, asking her husband for anything might prove easier then.

  “What should I do first?” she asked her mother.

  “After you order whatever you need from Zebediah, you mean, right?”

  “Of course. All that will take time. Then what?”

  “Then I would send out your invitations. You might want to make the invitation a part of the message in your Christmas cards. It would help to know just how many you’ll be expecting for supper. After that…”

  Olivia took note of the many projects she would have to complete before the twenty-fourth of December. All that, and she still had to finish one more dress for her daughter. Perhaps she could persuade Randy to help with preparations, especially since she’d be given “grown-up” tasks to tackle.

  After the two women divided the looming project into building blocks, Olivia felt she could at least start her preparations. She donned her cloak and gloves, slipped her purse-strings onto the crook of her elbow, and then headed for the door.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to ask your husband yet,” Elizabeth asked.

  Olivia didn’t need any more information to know what her mother meant. “No, Mama. But I have been working on it, preparing for the moment, trying to set it up as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t understand all the drama, dear. You just ask your husband a question. Especially since it’s such an important matter.”

  “Yes, it’s important, but, Mama, I did tell you he’s asked me to stay out of his business dealings. I can’t go against his wishes.”

  “His wishes, Olivia? A wish matters more than what might happen to us if he has his way?”

  She gasped. She’d never known her mother to make such a harsh statement before. While she understood Mama’s concerns, the way Elizabeth had framed the situation struck her in a way she’d never faced.

  “That’s not how it is, Mama.”

  She really should give her mother more details, a better understanding of the situation, but she dreaded revealing the truth of her marriage. Especially to a woman who’d lived her entire adult life with the man she loved, respected, and admired, the man who returned her love and respect and admiration. Mama often said Olivia’s father was her closest friend.

  “Yes, dear. That is the way it is. At least, that is something you must consider.”

  “Eli…” She stopped, then took a deep breath before going ahead. “I gave him my word not to interfere in his business, Mama. I can’t go back on it.”

  “While I understand your commitment to your husband, something I will always encourage, I hope you don’t forget your duty as a daughter and sister. You must find a way to balance both.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “See that you find a way to achieve it soon, dear. I… I don’t know what will become of us otherwise.”

  Something occurred to Olivia. “Now that he’s coming to know Eli better, has Papa tried to speak with him again? At the bank?”

  “His plan is to try and meet with him at the bank tomorrow. I’ll have him let you know how that goes.”

  At the front door, Olivia gave her mother a quick hug. “I’ll pray that Eli responds well to Papa’s request. And I’ll be back soon, I’m sure. I’m going to need all the help you can give me to carry off this gala.”

  “I’ll do my best, Livvy. Be careful on your way to town. The wind’s got a sharp nip today, and the horse might struggle in the cold weather.”

  “Don’t worry, Mama. I will take care on the way home.”

  Feeling as if she was fleeing from her responsibility to her family, Olivia nevertheless prayed all the way home. She prayed for her parents, for Eli, for herself.

  The Lord knew what needed to happen. But she still had to trust and wait. As difficult as it might be, she recognized the Lord’s timing as far superior to her own.

  That evening, Olivia took a notebook with her into the parlor instead of Randy’s almost ready rose wool dress. She wanted to update Eli on the notes she’d taken during her discussions with Cooky and Mama, and get his approval for her plans.

  But when she reached the door, she found Eli unpacking a large box. “Oh! Are you busy tonight?”

  As she walked in, he turned from where he knelt on the plush carpet and gestured her close. “I have something for you here.”

  “For me?”

  “Well, for us.”

  Us? Her heart skipped a beat. “I’m intrigued.”

  From the depths of the box he withdrew a newsprint-wrapped parcel, about the size of one of Cooky’s fresh-baked loaves of bread. “Here. Take a look.”

  Olivia took the object, carefully cupping it in her hands so as to protect it. Eli had handled it with care, and she wanted to do the same.

  As she unwrapped the item, excitement made her heart rate speed up. What could it be?

  As she removed the last bit of wrapping paper, she saw. The piece was a rustic wooden manger, carved by hand and painted with great detail. It awaited its usual inhabitants, and Olivia knew that within the still-packed box, a holy infant nestled in protective paper.

  She ran a finger over the old wood. “How lovely!”

  “There’s more,” he said, not meeting her gaze.

  In a short time, they’d removed all the animals, Mary, Joseph, and the cradle as well. Finally, with great care, Eli withdrew the baby Jesus from where He’d lain, swaddled in paper, in a corner of the crate.

  Olivia took the bisque statuette from her husband’s hands. “This is wonderful, Eli. Just beautiful. It looks old, too.”

  A faint wash of color covered his high cheekbones. “It belonged to my mother. I remember her setting up the pieces every year right before Christmas. She always took great care to place them all just so.”

  Olivia felt the emotion in his voice. “What a treasure you have here. Something this special is even more extraordinary because it once was hers. I’m so glad we have it for our family.”

  “You don’t think it’s too old? Too shabby?”

  “Shabby?” She shook her head. “It’s a family heirloom. A treasure for you, the children, even for me. Besides, like I said, it’s absolutely beautiful. Why would you think it’s shabby?”

  He shrugged but wouldn’t meet her gaze—again. “Victoria never wanted to set it out. She didn’t feel it was smart enough for us. She always wanted things just so, quite perfect.”

  “Forgive me, Eli. I do n
ot care to speak ill of the dead, but that is silly. Perfection belongs to the heavenly Father. Of course, we’ll display your mother’s Nativity. I’m proud we have such a special part of your family history.”

  He reached out and covered the hand that held the miniature holy infant. “I’m not one to wear my feelings on my sleeve, but I must tell you how glad I am you agreed to marry me.”

  A prickle of tears burned the inside of Olivia’s eyelids, and the warmth of his hand spread all through her. At that moment, she felt able handle anything life brought her way. Their way.

  Together.

  The two of them.

  Through the veil of her tears, she found Eli’s beautiful blue gaze ready to meet hers. “I’m thankful you asked me to become your wife.”

  As they sat like that for long moments, Olivia wondered if he could hear her galloping pulse. She felt his touch to the very depths of her heart, and hope soared within her.

  Then, slowly and carefully, as though to give her the opportunity to escape, Eli leaned forward, bridged the space between them, and placed his lips on hers.

  Chapter 18

  The heat of Eli’s lips against hers made Olivia’s pulse race faster, her skin tingle, ripples of awareness soar from her middle right up to her head… and made her want the moment never to end.

  The earth tilted beneath her. Her head spun. Still, Eli’s lips worked magic on hers.

  Finally, after what seemed like the most marvelous eternity, he eased away.

  She sighed, slowly opened her eyes.

  He smiled.

  She blushed.

  He reached up and ran a finger down her cheek, curved it over her jaw, brought it to a stop on her lips. Once again, his touch was gentler than the graze of a feather and sweeter than her mama’s pure sugar syrup.

  Olivia forced air into her lungs. “Eli—”

  “Mama!” Luke cried from the top of the stairs.

  She drew back from her husband as though his touch scalded her skin. With the moment ended, a furious blush sizzled up her cheeks, and she cast glances in any direction but at Eli, who still sat on the floor by the box and the mounds of packing newsprint.