by Keli Gwyn
She flew down the side of the house, rounded the corner, paused and scanned the area. Henry stood under the large oak tree where he’d rescued her from the downed branch the night he’d arrived back in Sutter Creek. A lantern sat at his feet, casting a warm glow. He motioned her forward.
She approached, scanning him from head to foot. “You’re all right. I was afraid you’d been hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“What is it then?”
“Look up, Aunt Livy.”
She did as Alex requested, and her mouth gaped. Someone had tied lots of red ribbons on the large clump of mistletoe overhead.
“Please tell me you didn’t climb all the way up there in the dark, Alex.”
“He didn’t,” Marcie stated gleefully. “It was Uncle Henry.”
Lavinia slowly lowered her head, a sense of excitement taking hold of her. “You did this? Why?”
Henry’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile she found irresistible. “Because I enjoyed that kiss you gave me and would like another.”
The girls giggled.
“Henry, please,” she whispered. “The children.”
“They know all about it, but they promised to keep my secret.”
She glanced at them. They were grinning. She faced Henry again. The lamplight illuminated his fine features. The attraction she’d seen before was back in full force. Could it be he did care about her after all?
He gazed into her eyes. “You’re a remarkable woman, Lavinia, and have a heart of gold. You saw to it that every child at the party tonight received a gift. I think it’s only fair that you get one, too.” He reached behind his back. “It’s nothing fancy. I made it myself.”
Her breath hitched. Henry had made something just for her.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
She obliged. He placed a long slender object in them. It was cool to the touch, like the gate she’d just closed, and heavier than she’d expected.
“You can open your eyes now.”
“Oh, Henry, it’s beautiful.” She studied the wrought iron shoehorn. His fine workmanship was evident. “I love the decorative twists in the handle and the little leaf here at the top.”
He raised the lantern. “Look at it closely.”
“There’s an L and an H, for Lavinia Hélène.” She looked more closely. “There’s no C, though, or did I miss it?”
“There’s no C. And the H isn’t for Hélène. I didn’t know that was your middle name, although it’s beautiful, just like you are.”
The girls heaved noisy sighs. Lavinia had been so engrossed in his amazing gift that she’d forgotten the children were there.
“If it’s not for Hélène, then...” She inhaled sharply. “Is it...?”
“Yes. The H is for Hawthorn. You’re part of this family, Lavinia. It wouldn’t be complete without you. I know I’m not the kind of man you had in mind. I’m not cultured or wealthy, and I’m not well-versed in all the rules of etiquette.”
“That doesn’t matter. You’re good and kind and wonderful just the way you are.”
“I can’t give you all the things you’re used to. Could you be happy without dresses from French designers and dinners at fancy restaurants?”
She nodded. “Those things are nice, but they’re nothing compared to love and family. I’d like very much to be part of this one.”
“I’d hoped you might feel that way. In that case...” Henry hung the lantern on a branch and dropped to one knee.
A tingling sensation swept over her.
He took the shoehorn from her and set it down. “I love you, Lavinia.”
“You do? But you never said anything.”
“I was a fool. I’d convinced myself I wasn’t good enough for you. I’m not, but you seem willing to overlook that.”
“Don’t you dare discount yourself, Henry Hawthorn. You’re the finest man I’ve ever known.”
Marcie laughed. “You said the same thing about him to your father.”
“I did because it’s true.”
Dot chimed in. “Uncle Henry is wonderful.”
He cleared his throat and chided the girls playfully. “If you young ladies could keep from interrupting me, I could propose to your aunt.”
“Go ahead, Uncle Henry,” Alex said.
“Very well.” He lifted his face to Lavinia, his eyes filled with love and admiration. “My dearest Lavinia, I’d be honored if you’d marry me and take my name. You already have my heart.”
“I love you, too, so very much.”
“Then you’ll accept my offer?” His voice contained a blend of hesitancy and hope.
“Yes, Henry! Yes!”
He stood, pulled her into a hug and held her tightly. She slipped her arms around him and rested her head against his broad chest. This was where she belonged.
The children’s whooping and hollering roused her.
Henry loosened his hold and drew back but didn’t let her go. “Sounds like we have their approval.”
She smiled. “That it does.”
“You’re under mistletoe, Uncle Henry,” Alex pointed out. “You have to kiss her.”
“Gladly.” He leaned toward her and pressed a kiss to her lips, pulling away far too soon for her liking.
The gate clanged shut.
“Goody! Grandma and Grandpa S. are here.” Dot raced off to meet them with Marcie right behind her.
Alex sauntered over to Henry and Lavinia. “There’s a whole lot of mistletoe up there. You need to give Aunt Livy a better kiss than that, Uncle Henry.”
“Don’t worry. I will, once you and your sisters are inside.”
Alex nodded his approval and dashed off to join his sisters.
A shiver of anticipation shimmied up Lavinia’s spine. She’d never been so eager for the children to head to bed.
Concern furrowed Henry’s forehead. “You’re not cold, are you?”
“No. It’s not that.” She focused on his lips.
“How interesting.” His voice took on a deep, intimate tone with his rolled R’s more pronounced than ever. “You like my kisses, do you? I’m glad, because there are many more to come.”
“Well, if that isn’t a beautiful sight.” Gladys had rounded the corner of the house with Emery on one side of her, the children on the other. “Your aunt and uncle have gotten together at last. So, when’s the wedding?”
“Tomorrow, if my bride-to-be is agreeable.”
She shook her head to clear it. “Tomorrow? Really? But it’s Christmas.”
“That it is. One of the most special days of the year. Marrying you would make it even more so.”
“It would, but there’s no time to plan anything.”
Henry shrugged. “What’s there to plan? The house has been decorated, we have a tasty feast planned and the guests have already been invited.”
“So are you getting married on Christmas or not?” Marcie asked.
The prospect of becoming Henry’s wife in a few short hours sent a shiver of anticipation skittering up Lavinia’s spine. She slipped her arms free, took Henry’s hand and turned to their eager audience. “Yes. We are.”
The children rushed over, enfolding her and Henry in a family hug.
Alex was the first to break away. He grinned. “Frankie was right about the mistletoe. It really works.”
“That it does,” Henry said, his eyes twinkling in the lantern light.
Gladys approached and beckoned to the children. “Come now. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, so your grandpa and I will get you tucked in and give your aunt and uncle some privacy.”
The children chorused their good-nights, tromped up the back steps and went inside, followed by Gladys and Emery.
&n
bsp; Lavinia picked up the shoehorn. “This is what you made the day you worked in the smithy with Mr. Dealy, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“But you didn’t plan to propose back then, did you? And yet you used an H. Why?”
“You were on my mind, and I added the letter without thinking. I’d meant to replace the leaf, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He took the shoehorn from her and set it down. “A part of me secretly hoped you’d become my wife one day, even though my sensible side knew I’d never be the kind of man worthy of you.”
“I’m the one who isn’t worthy of you. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of—and more.”
Henry held her hands and pressed his lips to the back of them. “You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that. I was afraid you wouldn’t be willing to give up the life you had. I can meet your needs, but you’ll have to learn to live with less.”
“That’s fine. This last month has shown me that I don’t need as much as I thought I did. I might buy some fabric with the money I have left, though, and ask Gladys to help me make a few simple dresses. I like the ones I brought, but red and green were Pauline’s favorite colors. I prefer blue and purple.”
“Make yourself as many as you need, at my expense. I can give you dresses, but—” he smiled apologetically “—I’m afraid our budget won’t cover matching footwear. Can you survive?”
“I do like my boots, but I don’t need to have a pair for every outfit.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and gazed at her with unbridled love. “If I could provide them, I would.”
“I appreciate that, but we have so much already—three wonderful children, a fine house for them to live in and a town filled with some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”
“About the house—I spoke with Mr. Nichols at the party tonight and told him I’ll be in on Monday to pay off the mortgage.”
“We could use the money my father’s giving me instead and save yours for—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I’m not surprised that you want to help, but the adjustments you’ll be making could be difficult at times. I’d like you to keep your money and use it to get the things you might want.”
All she wanted at that moment was the kiss he’d promised her. She lifted her chin and stepped closer, but Henry kept on talking.
“I spoke with Mr. Price after the party and asked him what Mr. Benedict might be willing to take for his building. As I expected, he wants more than the place is worth. Mr. Price thinks he might be able to convince Benedict to take less, though, since the place has been vacant for so long and I could offer a portion of the price up front.”
Henry had accomplished a great deal in an hour, but he was a man of action. “Are you planning to open another hotel?”
“It would make sense. I have experience, and you have a great deal of knowledge in that area, too, but I won’t proceed unless you agree.”
She wasn’t used to a man asking her opinion, but Henry wasn’t like other men. “I do agree, but only if the hotel includes a restaurant. You’re an excellent chef, and I feel certain you’d earn a stellar reputation in no time. We could call the hotel Hawthorn House, and the restaurant could be Henry’s Place.”
He chuckled. “You’re full of plans, aren’t you, and keeping my hobby a secret doesn’t seem to be one of them.”
“It would be a shame to keep your talents all to ourselves. The Lord expects us to share them. Which reminds me... I’d also like to offer the meeting room to the congregation for our services until we can afford to have a church built. What do you think?”
“I think a man could go far with a woman like you at his side. No one’s ever believed in me or my dreams the way you do.”
“And no one’s ever loved me the way you do. You’ve made me happier than I thought possible. Now, if you don’t mind—” she splayed her hands on his chest and gazed at the incredible man God had given her “—I’d like that kiss you promised me.”
He grinned. “And you shall have it.” He pulled her into his arms, tilted his head and leaned toward her. Her eyes slid shut.
This kiss was nothing like the others he’d given her, which had been sweet but tentative. He claimed her lips with the assurance of a man in love, firm but tender. She’d never felt as cherished, as appreciated for who she was as she did then.
He pulled away slightly, whispered her name against her lips and kissed her again. She didn’t think things could get any better, but they did. Time seemed to stand still. She wasn’t aware of anything but Henry and the delight of being in his arms.
Until a distant knocking began. It continued, growing louder and more insistent.
He brought the kiss to an end, and they turned toward the sound.
A lantern illuminated Marcie, Dot and Alex, who stood at the girls’ second-story bedroom window. Their nieces and nephew waved and smiled. Lavinia and Henry waved back.
He chuckled. “It appears we’ve finally satisfied our mistletoe matchmakers.”
“So it does. I didn’t realize we had an audience, though.”
Gladys appeared at the window, shooed the children away and closed the curtains.
“No one’s watching now, my love, so I can show you how just much you mean to me.”
His endearment was as sweet as the kiss that followed.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed THEIR MISTLETOE MATCHMAKERS,
look for these other books by Keli Gwyn:
FAMILY OF HER DREAMS,
A HOME OF HER OWN,
MAKE-BELIEVE BEAU
and
HER MOTHERHOOD WISH.
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Dear Reader,
I’m a December bride, so when my editor asked if I’d like to write a Christmas story, I responded with an enthusiastic yes. This time of year thoughts turn to love—of our families, our friends and, most important, our Lord, who came to earth as a baby. Creating a love story set during this wonderful season was special.
I enjoyed writing Henry and Lavinia’s story and hope you’ve enjoyed reading it. This couple has experienced heartache, but they find solace in caring for their nephew and nieces. They also find a love of their own as they work together to make Christmas special for the children.
I strive to make my stories as historically accurate as possible. As I did my research, I learned a lot about Sutter Creek, a Gold Rush-era town not too far from where I live that has a rich history. I did take a bit of fictional license. The first church wasn’t built until two years after the story takes place. There was a congregation in the late 1850s, but I don’t know where they met. I chose to use the schoolhouse.
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website at www.keligwyn.com or write to me at PO Box 1404, Placerville CA 95667.
Warmly,
Keli Gwyn
Keep reading for an excerpt from A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS WISH by Erica Vetsch.
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A Child's Christmas Wish
by Erica Vetsch
Chapter One
Berne, Minnesota
November 1, 1875
“Lord, haven’t we suffered enough?” Kate Amaker didn’t say the words aloud, but they echoed in her head as Grossvater Martin urged the horses to hurry over the wooden bridge and up the slight rise to their farm drive. “How much more can we take?”
Ahead, a dull orange colored the night sky, illuminating the undersides of billowing gray clouds of smoke. Something on their farm was burning. Something big. What building was it? The barn? Thankfully, all the cows were out in the pasture tonight. The cheese house? An entire summer’s worth of cheeses gone up in smoke? All their equipment...their livelihood?
Rattling over the bridge, they drew near, and Kate’s heart sank. It was neither the barn nor the cheese house.
It was their home.
Kate put her arm around Grossmutter Inge and gripped the edge of the wagon seat with her other hand. The horses responded to Grossvater’s shouts by galloping up the hill, the wagon jouncing and slewing.
Johann and Grossvater had built the farmhouse together, replacing the three-roomed log cabin the family had lived in when they first arrived from Switzerland more than twenty years before. It was the house Johann had been so proud to bring his bride home to after their wedding almost two years before. The farmhouse was to shelter them through the coming Minnesota winter and welcome her baby in a few weeks. An ache started behind Kate’s ribs, so heavy she couldn’t take a deep breath.
