Hometown Cinderella: Hometown CinderellaThe Inn at Hope Springs

by Patricia Davids

  She breathed a sigh of relief, mentally thanking Gideon for his good sense. “Put your mittens by the stove.”

  He obeyed, spreading his cap, scarf and mittens on a rack standing near the woodstove.

  “You can pour yourself a glass of milk or would you like a hot cup of tea with a cookie?”

  “I’ll get some milk.”

  A few minutes later, he came to sit beside her, a glass of milk and a large molasses cookie before him. “What’re you making?”

  “Codfish cakes for supper.” She’d finished peeling the cold cooked potatoes and now began flaking the dried, salted cod she’d set to soak the night before.

  “Yum-yum,” he said, rubbing his tummy.

  After taking a bite of cookie and sip of milk, he turned to her. “Mama, when are we going to make Christmas decorations?”

  Mara’s hands stilled in the large bowl. “Hmm. I’ve been so busy with piano lessons I haven’t had much time to think about Christmas.”

  “Lizzie already has fir boughs all over their house. They smell so good.” He took a large sniff. “Better even than the ones you used to put in our house in Paris.”

  “I imagine it’s because it’s balsam fir. It has about the nicest scent of all the evergreen trees.” She’d always made their sitting room, no matter how mean their boardinghouse, as festive as she could during the holidays. Perhaps because she’d married a man of German origin and had visited his family there a few times in the earlier years of their marriage, she’d grown to enjoy all the evergreen decorations for Christmas.

  She’d loved the Christmas fairs in the German towns, where open-air stalls sold wooden decorations for the Christmas trees. And there was no prettier sight than the fir trees with their candles lit on Christmas Eve.

  She wasn’t sure how much Dietrich remembered, since he’d been so young, but clearly he retained some vivid memories.

  “Do you still have my nutcracker?”

  Mara thought how to answer. A child would not understand how limited she’d been in what she’d been able to bring home. “No, dear, we weren’t able to bring it. I’m sorry. I only had enough space to pack your stuffed animal, your wooden train set and your clothes.”

  His mouth turned downward. For a moment she wondered if he would cry. But instead he took another bite of his cookie. “Maybe I can get another one for Christmas.” His brown eyes twinkled over the rim of his glass.

  Before she could reply, wondering if they even sold such types of nutcrackers in this part of the world, he continued. “Lizzie is making all kinds of Christmas presents. She says she has things hidden all over the house. She says she has something for me and you and says I’ll never guess.”

  Mara focused on the codfish. She hadn’t planned on any gift giving. Carina had made it plain she didn’t want any evergreen boughs or a tree in the house. We’ll be picking out fir needles all year long from between the floorboards.

  Mara had only thought of making Dietrich some little token to acknowledge the day but hadn’t had much time to do so yet. But now she realized Christmas was only a little over a week away.

  “What do you have for Lizzie and Mr. Jakeman?”

  “I don’t have anything…yet,” she added. Maybe she’d have enough time to embroider a set of handkerchiefs, perhaps knit a pair of socks for Gideon and buy some little thing like a pair of hair combs for Lizzie. She felt her face grow warm at the notion of these practical things for Gideon, the kinds of things a wife would make for her husband.

  Perhaps a box of fudge or some cookies would be better. She looked over at her son. “What do you want to give them?”

  He scrunched up his face, chewing on his cookie. “I don’t know. Maybe some marbles for Mr. Jakeman? And a doll for Lizzie. Although she doesn’t play with dolls. She has a collection in her room, though. I’ve seen it. She keeps them all lined up in a row. She said her mama made her all of them. Every year for Christmas she’d get a new one, and a dress for the old one, she told me.”

  Mara pictured the scene. What lovely memories and mementoes the girl must have of the late Mrs. Jakeman.

  “Well, we’d better get busy, hadn’t we, thinking of something for the two of them? Maybe you can go into town with me one day this week and we can look in the shops.” She had enough saved up now to use a little on some more frivolous things. Gifts for those she cared about most.

  Her thoughts returned to the teacup Lizzie and Gideon had gone all the way to Bangor for. Even though it wasn’t an exact match, their gesture had touched her deeply and made her realize how unused she was to having anyone do anything for her.

  Had she become so bent on doing for herself that she’d forgotten how to receive?

  Gideon was not content to rest on the matter of the broken teacup. As soon as he returned home that afternoon, he sat down and wrote to the address of the shop in Boston that the Bangor clerk had given him. The next morning, he posted his letter.

  Waiting was never easy but Gideon prided himself on being a patient man. Planting and waiting for seeds to sprout and then tending them until harvest time developed patience in a person.

  A person learned to read the signs in the sky and landscape.

  Perhaps that’s what made him able to read the nuances in Mara’s face whenever he was in her presence. And cause him to spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about her when he wasn’t.

  He sighed now as he straightened from chopping wood, setting down his ax a moment and rolling his shoulders. The sky had been low and gray all morning and now just past noon the first flakes began to fall against his face.

  He hadn’t seen Mara in almost a week. Early winter was a time when folks tended to hunker down in their homes, getting prepared for the long months ahead as if for a siege. With Christmas in two days, people were busy with holiday preparations as well.

  He’d tried to find out from Lizzie if the Kellers had any special plans. Mrs. Blackstone didn’t do much of anything, except go to church on Christmas morning and to dinner at his cousin’s house afterward. Cliff usually came by to take her to dinner, so Gideon didn’t have to.

  Lizzie planned on baking a roast beef from the cow that had been slaughtered. They had plenty of potatoes, carrots, turnips, parsnips and onions in the root cellar, and Lizzie had canned dozens of jars of greens from the summer garden.

  He looked down the road toward Mrs. Blackstone’s though it wasn’t visible from the bends in the road and forest separating the two properties.

  On the spur of the moment, he walked toward the barn to put his ax away. Dietrich was inside with Lizzie. The boy usually spent afternoons after school with them. Lizzie had invited him inside today to bake sugar cookies for Christmas.

  They looked up when he entered the kitchen. “How much longer are you going to be baking?”

  Lizzie gestured at the tray of cookies in front of her on the table. “This is the last one.”

  “I just wondered if you two wanted to go into the forest with me and cut some greens to deliver to Mrs. Blackstone and your mother, Dietrich?”

  Dietrich jumped down from his chair, clapping his hands. “You mean a tree?”

  He rubbed his chin, not bothering to remove his outer things. “Well, perhaps not a tree, but some branches to use as garlands and table decorations the way we have about the house here.” Lizzie had done a good job in the parlor and dining room, making everything look festive. The two of them had already found a tree in the forest and he’d cut it down yesterday and stood it in a bucket of water in the woodshed. Tomorrow they’d put it up.

  Dietrich’s face fell and Gideon felt a spurt of compassion for the boy. “Maybe you could come over tomorrow and help us decorate our tree.”

  His eyes widened. “Could I?”

  “We’ll ask your mot
her. Well, what do you say? You want to come along with me in a little while and bring back some greens when you go home? It’s just starting to snow, but we should be back before it gets too thick.”

  Dietrich nodded his head with vigor.

  “Sounds perfect, Papa,” Lizzie added. “We’ll be along in a bit and even bring you some cookies.”

  He smiled and winked at his daughter. “I’ll hold you to that!”

  About an hour later they set out. Gideon took them upcountry across the road to a place where he’d been felling trees so there would be lots of fallen branches on the snow.

  Lizzie raised her face toward the sky. “I love the forest when it snows. Everything’s so quiet and peaceful.”

  Dietrich stuck his tongue out to catch snowflakes. “Mmm. They taste good.”

  Lizzie and Gideon chuckled.

  “I imagine all the animals tucked away in their nests or hideaways sleeping,” Lizzie said, bending over and scooping up a handful of snow. “No good for snowballs. It’s not wet enough.”

  Gideon nodded, eyeing his surroundings. “The temperature’s dropping.” He stopped at the clearing. “Here we are. I brought some clippers. Let’s get our greens and head back. I want to get you home, Dietrich, before it worsens.”

  “Are we going to have a snowstorm, Mr. Jakeman?”

  Gideon loped off a thick balsam branch. “Looks that way, son.”

  It was midafternoon, the sky already darkening when they left the forest, carrying their bundles of evergreen boughs. “We’ll go straight to your house, Dietrich. Your mother’ll be expecting you home anyway.”

  They marched the rest of the way in silence. Even Dietrich was subdued, probably with the cold. Gideon’s toes and fingers felt stiff, the only part of his face visible above his scarf and below his sealskin cap was chapped from the frigid air. As soon as they left the forest, the wind from off the coast hit them, making it seem several degrees colder.

  Soon, the lights from Mrs. Blackstone’s house appeared. As if by mutual accord, they picked up their pace as they headed toward the long drive. Gideon couldn’t help but think that Mara might invite him and Lizzie in for something hot to drink.

  It would probably be awkward with Mrs. Blackstone there. He didn’t know why it should be. He’d never been on excessively friendly terms with her. She’d seemed to hold herself reserved from those of the hamlet as if she considered herself a bit better. That had never prevented her from accepting their help when she’d become a widow.

  Gideon admired his cousin for faithfully inviting Mrs. Blackstone to all the major holiday dinners as well as to many a Sunday dinner after church, even though the two didn’t have much to talk about. But Sarah was a good Christian and felt it part of that duty to “look after the orphans and widows.” That’s what kept Gideon doing any outside work for Mrs. Blackstone when there was more than Paul could manage on his own.

  But since Mara and her son’s arrival, Gideon sensed a deeper reserve, even a coldness, in the older lady’s behavior toward her husband’s only living family. Gideon shook his head, finding it hard to fathom.

  He hefted the bundle of greens in his hand, glad to soon be able to set it down.

  They finally reached the woodshed door. Dietrich yanked it open with his free hand. Stopping him by the shoulder, Gideon held him back from rushing inside. “Hold up there. Ladies first, remember.”

  Dietrich stepped away from the doorway.

  Lizzie swept passed him, holding her skirts aloft like a grand lady in a hoop skirt. “Thank you, sir.”

  Gideon then gave Dietrich a pat on the back, sending him in next. “Get along with you before your mother gets anxious. Put your boughs near Lizzie’s bundle.”

  His own heartbeat quickening a notch or two in anticipation of seeing Mara, Gideon came in last and closed and latched the door behind him. “Stamp your boots good before going into the kitchen.”

  Lizzie opened the kitchen door, sending a shaft of light into the dim shed. “Hallo!” She called out as she entered. “Mrs. Keller? Mrs. Blackstone?”

  Dietrich ran ahead of her. “I’m home, Mama!”

  Gideon set down his bundle atop the others then approached the step up onto the threshold to the kitchen, stopping short when Mrs. Blackstone entered the kitchen. “Good evening, ma’am,” he said, lifting his cap.

  “I didn’t expect you. I thought it was Mara.”

  Gideon stared at her. “Mrs. Keller’s not home?” Who would be out on an afternoon like today?

  “No.” Mrs. Blackstone entered farther into the kitchen, motioning with an arm. “Come in, please, before you let in all the cold air.”

  “Sorry about that.” Gideon hurried in and shut the door behind him. The kitchen felt like a warm bath after the frigid air. Before he could ask anything more about Mara’s whereabouts, Dietrich spoke.

  “Mama’s not back from town yet?”

  “No.” The older lady’s eyes met Gideon’s with a small frown. His own must have shown the worry he was feeling. “She insisted on going in for her lessons even though I told her it looked like snow coming on, but she said she’d be back with plenty of time.” She walked to the window and pushed back the filmy curtain, looking out at the dark night. “But she’s usually back by now.”

  “Mama’s out in the snow?” Dietrich’s bottom lip began to quiver, his eyes filling with fear. Lizzie came up to him and took his hand.

  Gideon frowned. “But it’s not Thursday, her usual day.”

  “She’s been going in two days a week the last two weeks,” the widow replied.

  Gideon didn’t have to think about it anymore. He grasped the doorknob. “I’m going out and look for her. Come along, Lizzie.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Lizzie hurried right behind him.

  They stopped short at the sound of Dietrich’s wail. “I want Mama!”

  They both went up to him, Lizzie putting a hand around his shoulders, bending over him with comforting murmurs. Gideon put his hand on the boy’s head. “I’ll find her, son, and bring her back to you.”

  When they turned to go again, Dietrich pulled at Gideon’s coat. “I want to go with you. Take me with you!” His crying grew harder. Gideon looked helplessly at Lizzie, knowing exactly how the little tyke must be feeling.

  “He can stay with me,” Lizzie said, “while you go out.” She looked around Gideon to Mrs. Blackstone. “If you don’t mind, ma’am. I can feed him and put him to bed.”

  Mrs. Blackstone shrugged. “Take him, by all means. He’ll be fretting here, I’m sure, and I know nothing of children.”

  Gideon cleared his throat. “I— If Mrs. Keller should show up here, just tell her where her son is, that he’s in good hands.”

  “I will indeed, though I don’t see how she can make it home on her own,” she added with another glance out the dark window.

  Refraining from expressing his annoyance at her words in front of Dietrich, he ushered the boy from the room.

  By the time Mara finished with her last pupil, it was almost dark. When the girl’s mother opened the front door for her, bidding her goodbye, Mara stopped short on the threshold, not expecting the swirling snow around her.

  The other woman peered out. “Goodness, it’s getting thick out there. Are you sure you want to go out in that?”

  “I’ll be fine, ma’am,” she said with more certainty than she felt, her thoughts on getting back to Dietrich, hoping Gideon had brought him home by now and hoping her son would do nothing to annoy Mrs. Blackstone before she managed to arrive home.

  She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck, bringing it up to cover the bottom half of her face, hunching against the snow before setting out. Guide me, dear Lord, please guide me safely home to Dietrich. Bring him home, too. She didn’t have too m
any worries on that score, trusting Gideon with her son after these past months.

  Going down Main Street didn’t prove too difficult. She crossed the river, hearing its raging waters below her, but didn’t pause. She walked as fast as she could, despite the icy surfaces. She reached the end of town, following the street along the river. As soon as she passed the last houses, the wind seemed to pick up, buffeting her in gusts of snow.

  Finally, she reached a forest which sheltered her somewhat from the wind and worst of the snow but made it harder to see the road. It was still dusk and the road still passable but she wondered how it would be four miles hence. As she walked, she prayed and recited psalms she’d memorized over the years in times of trouble.

  By the time darkness had fallen, she was out where the road crossed open fields and blueberry barrens. The wind stung her cheeks and a new worry confronted her. What if she lost the road and wandered onto the fields by mistake?

  Visions of being found frozen to death filled her mind. She renewed her prayers and strained her eyes to distinguish the road from the fields. Thankfully the land rose on either side of the road, but as snow filled the road, she wondered how long before it was as high as the land.

  Resolutely, she forced her thoughts in another direction. Dietrich. Gideon had surely brought him home by now. She couldn’t help but think as she always did when her thoughts veered in this direction of what a fine father he was to her son.

  Oh, that Dietrich had known such a father since birth! But perhaps he’d gotten to know Gideon early enough that all the painful memories of his own father would fade from his young mind.

  She felt no sense of betrayal in finding Gideon a superior father than her child’s natural father. Despite his talent, Klaus was a selfish, egotistical man, whose pride had grown in proportion to the adulation he’d received onstage. She could have borne the brunt of his exacting demands at home, but not the faultfinding he’d begun to inflict upon Dietrich as their child grew old enough to understand.