by DiAnn Mills
Mr. Jones held up his hand. “Nonsense. I’ve been trying to add a little meat to my bones for years. I hope you draw my name.”
The hum of the staff’s chatter rose like pealing bells. Thad remembered the days before Christmas when his parents were alive. His father loved to tease, and his mother always pretended mock indignation. On Christmas Eve, she’d take the time to bake an apple pie to enjoy after they’d selected a tree. Father would declare it sour. “You’re a fine doctor’s wife,” he’d say, “but at Christmas I need a woman who can bake a sugary crusted pie.” Of course, he always chuckled with his words and ate every bite.
Thad missed those days.
One by one each member of the staff dropped his or her name into Emma Leigh’s basket. Closing her eyes, she waded her fingers through the pieces of paper. “Mr. Jones, would you like to be the first one to select your secret friend?”
He dutifully stepped forward and made a grand production of inserting his hand into the basket. He winked at his wife, a quiet, gentle woman who never spoke ill of anyone. Mr. Jones pulled out a name. He lifted his chin and read the paper. “This is grand,” he said. “I believe I have the best name of all.”
His wife or Sarah, Thad speculated.
One by one the staff filed up to select a name. One of the stable boys drew his own, causing much laughter until he replaced it and reached down into the basket for another. Thad watched the expressions on their faces—and on Emma Leigh’s. Surprise. Elation. He waited until the end of the line. How grand if one dark-haired beauty became his secret friend for an entire ten days.
“You have the last name, Thad,” Mr. Jones called out.
Thad felt the others study him. They all knew him to be a shy sort. Forcing a faint grin, he reached inside the basket for the lone slip of paper.
Emma Leigh Carter.
Chapter 4
Emma Leigh finished her work promptly before Papa came with the wagon to drive her home. She could very well walk the three miles and did when Papa had a full day in the fields. But now a nip of winter tugged at her heels, and he took her each morning and came by every afternoon. Emma Leigh understood his need to do all he could for her. Ever since he took ill, Papa had troubled himself with her working. Emma Leigh realized he felt inadequate as provider for his family, but in truth she loved her position at the inn. Greeting guests and making sure they were comfortable suited her fine. Admittedly, she loved the Jones Inn.
Glancing about, she looked for signs of Thad. Odd, he’d been on her mind since last night, more so than she deemed proper. She hoped he’d drawn an easy name for the Christmas celebration. In fact, she’d hoped all the men found her plan easy. The secret friend project should be fun for everyone, or it wouldn’t suit Mr. Jones’s idea of a memorable holiday.
Taking a peek into the kitchen, she didn’t see signs of Thad there either.
“Can I help ya, Emma Leigh?” Sarah said, giving her a quick smile. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, revealing forearms dusted with flour. She took both hands to the dough and kneaded it again, putting all of her strength into the white mound.
“Have you seen Thad?” Emma Leigh said, sensing embarrassment for inquiring about the man.
“Not in the past hour. He’s probably in the carriage house or the stables at this time of day.”
“Thank you. I’ll try those places.” She avoided the curious look on Sarah’s face.
The moment Emma Leigh closed the outside door, she regretted leaving her shawl behind. But she’d only be a moment with Thad, just long enough to see if he was content with the name he’d drawn. After all, he’d given her the idea of a secret friend.
She spotted him instructing a stableboy on how to properly escort the guests to and from the carriage. Emma Leigh listened, wondering why she’d never heard the deep timbre of his voice before. After all, they’d worked together for more than a year and grown up together on neighboring farms.
She smiled at the scene before her. A few days ago, a pine bough had been draped across the shiny back of the carriage, adding a festive touch.
“If you are in the position of assisting the lady into the carriage, always offer your hand and address her appropriately. Think of her as a royal queen. Greet the men as though they were kings, and you will never disappoint the guests or Mr. Jones.”
The young man nodded in Emma Leigh’s direction. “Good afternoon, Miss Emma Leigh.”
She stifled a giggle, knowing his mannerly words came as a result of Thad’s careful instruction. “Hello, Baxter. I see you’re having a fine lesson with an excellent teacher.”
Thad grinned broadly. He bent low and offered her his hand. “My lady.”
This was the Thad she remembered, the fun-loving boy who played make-believe with her. With a deep curtsy, she reached for his outstretched hand and allowed him to lead her to the carriage door. He opened it wide and assisted her inside.
“Have a pleasant and safe journey, Miss Carter,” Thad said. “We look forward to having you return as a guest of Jones Inn.” He closed the door and tipped his woolen cap as though he wore a top hat.
“Bravo.” Emma Leigh clapped. “I shall recommend you to the owner of this impeccable establishment,” she said, no longer able to contain her laughter. “Your manners are exquisite.”
“I appreciate your generous compliments.” He opened the carriage door and took her hand as she stepped to the ground.
She caught his gaze, and its warmth branded her heart. Oh dear, Thad will be able to see I’m clearly flustered.
“I understand the formalities now,” Baxter laughed. “Thank you for helping me. I’ll do my best not to forget a single thing.”
Thad shook the young man’s hand. “You won’t have any problems. You have a quick mind.”
Baxter disappeared from the stable, leaving Emma Leigh and Thad alone.
“You were very kind to him,” she said, willing her heart to cease its incessant pounding.
“He’s a fine lad.” Thad leaned against the carriage and rubbed a dull spot on the carriage door.
“You reminded me of when we were children.” Emma Leigh shook her head at the memories. “You were always so good about playing the games I suggested.”
“Oh, but you never refused climbing trees or marching to my soldier’s drum.”
Laughing with Thad came easily. She sighed happily and relaxed a bit. She recalled her errand. “Are you satisfied with the name you drew today?”
“I’ll manage,” he said. “It’s a challenge, but your idea was excellent.”
“You inspired it.”
A rooster strutted past them with two hens trailing behind. “Best you watch your manners,” he said to the chickens. “Sarah will have you for dinner tomorrow if you venture too close to the kitchen.”
Emma Leigh joined him in laughter and realized she needed to get back inside. Papa would be coming soon, and she didn’t want to detain him. “Please give your aunt and uncle my regards.” She turned to leave. “And my parents said you were welcome to stop by anytime.”
Immediately color tinge her cheeks. What had happened to her?
Thad set the pail of milk inside the front door of his aunt and uncle’s frame home. He smelled dinner, and his stomach rumbled.
“Hungry?” Aunt Klara said, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Enough to eat a horse.” He washed his hands in a basin, all the while thinking about the Christmas happenings at the inn. Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to draw Emma Leigh’s name. Now if I can only come up with the right gifts.
“I sure could use your help, Aunt Klara,” Thad said, drying his hands. “Can we talk later?”
When Aunt Klara smiled, her whole face radiated, reminding him of how an angel must look. “You can have all the time you need.”
He hugged her waist, and Uncle Albert wrinkled his brow in mock annoyance. “Find your own wife, Thad,” he said. “Klara is mine, and I’ve seen you looking at her—especially at mealtim
e.” He winked and stuck his pipe into his mouth.
I know the wife I want, but I’ll never have her.
As they ate, Thad reflected on the past year with his aunt and uncle. He’d still been grieving for his parents when he arrived from Boston, and the guilt of lashing out at Aunt Klara when she tried to comfort him still stung. Praise God he had finally come to his senses and realized this precious woman was a gift. Every day he thanked God for Aunt Klara’s love and wisdom.
Once they’d completed the meal, Thad read the scripture aloud while Uncle Albert listened and Aunt Klara bustled about tidying up the kitchen. He made certain she heard his voice in the next room, clear and strong. Tonight he chose Psalm 37. Verse four seized him as though God had lifted the words from the page: “‘Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.’ ”
God knew how Thad’s heart longed for Emma Leigh. Dare he ask for so great a blessing as to have her always? Thad took a deep breath and continued reading. Still, Emma Leigh should have a husband who had mastered witty conversation. She’d be bored with the likes of him. What could he possibly be thinking? Medical school lay in the near future, and he had little money to support a wife.
Soon after, Aunt Klara joined them for prayers. Once Uncle Albert concluded with a hearty “Amen,” he stood and yawned. “I’m in need of some sleep.”
“Are you going to bed because I want to talk to Aunt Klara?” Thad laughed.
“Of course not.” His uncle joined in the laughter. “Mind you, don’t be making plans to run off with my wife, hear me?”
Thad bid his uncle good night. He pulled an extra chair around the cozy fire. How he loved this house and the many ways Aunt Klara graced the room with touches of beauty. She’d brought countless reminders of her homeland from Sweden. Near the fireplace rested a huge, hand-painted wooden chest. The top and sides were bordered in a deep blue vinelike pattern. Yellow outlined lighter blue flowers in the middle. The chest held many treasures from her native land. Every box, tool, and dish had been intricately painted. Shades of blue, green, dull reds, and oranges made up the background colors while greens, reds, whites, yellows, and different hues of blue formed the designs.
Thad remembered the first time Aunt Klara had opened the box to show him her handsomely carved distaff called a scotching knife, and her mangle, used to smooth the wrinkles from wet clothing. Both were painted in green and orange-red. She called the colorful technique rosemaling, and on long winter nights she busied herself in painting plates, chests, and even some of Uncle Albert’s tools with the beautiful designs. The chest also contained a Swedish hymnal and a pair of hand-painted gloves.
Thad glanced at the ceiling beam near Aunt Klara and Uncle Albert’s bedroom. Aunt Klara had bordered some of the walls with flowers and leaves. A beam was draped with a handwoven blanket in green and orange. Upstairs in his loftlike room hung another blanket in blue-green, light green, and red.
“How can I help you?” Aunt Klara said, interrupting his reverie.
He rubbed the legs of his breeches. His carefully chosen words had slipped his mind. He might as well leap into it all. “Today at the inn, everyone drew a name for a secret friend. We’re supposed to give this person a token of friendship as often as we desire. On Christmas Eve we all find out who has our name. Mr. Jones wants this Christmas to be memorable, and the gifts are to be more from the heart than the purse.”
Aunt Klara nodded. “And whose name did you receive?”
Thad took a deep breath. “Emma Leigh’s.”
Aunt Klara tilted her head, and her clear blue eyes peered up into his. “My dear boy, are you happy about this?”
He sighed. “I think so, but I only have a few ideas. That’s where I need help.”
Aunt Klara touched her finger to the dimple in her chin. “In Sweden, we celebrate Christmas for a whole month. Perhaps I can help you with some of the gifts.”
He felt himself smile from the inside out.
“What are your thoughts?” she said.
Thad swallowed hard. “I can write a little, but not fancy words. I can whittle some. Candy would be nice. She doesn’t have any gloves, and I don’t remember her having any last winter either.” He shrugged. “Maybe a pretty ribbon for her hair. And I know her family is so very poor, so maybe I could give her food to share. I know the things I have in mind will cost a little, but there are so many things she needs.” He remembered the small pot of stew on their table the night he visited her. They were all thin, too slight to fight the cold of winter.
“Those all sound like fine ideas.”
He forced a hesitant smile. “I also wondered if you could show me how to do the rosemaling—I mean a few simple strokes that I could add to a small box.”
Her eyes moistened. “I’d be honored, but when will you have the time? Your days and evenings are so full.”
“I’ll simply stay up later.”
She seemed to ponder his words. “We could work on the painting together. You can learn, and we both can add touches to it in our spare moments.”
Thad took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to have added work.”
She patted his arm in her familiar affectionate manner. “It’s not work when you use your hands for someone you love.”
“I love you,” he whispered, then grinned. “I dare not say those words too loud. Uncle Albert may come out of his bed with a gun after me!”
“Ah, I believe I know where your heart lies, and the young woman is most lucky indeed.”
He hesitated. “Aunt Klara, she is a beautiful woman inside and out. Look at what she’s doing for her family, and she is always happy.”
Aunt Klara caressed his cheek. “I pray God grants you the same as in the psalm you read this night.”
The desires of my heart. Great heavenly Father, should I dare even ask such a thing?
Chapter 5
Emma Leigh took a peek into Mama’s cooking pot to see if she could ladle a few more beans and broth into her bowl. The day had been long and busy, and for some reason the joy about introducing the Christmas celebration had made her hungrier than usual.
“Would you get us some more, please?” eight-year-old Simon said, holding up his empty bowl.
She gazed into the eyes of her younger brother and then at the other children who looked expectantly. Such sad, hungry eyes. Would life ever get better? How could she be so selfish and not think of them? God forgive her.
“I’d be happy to,” she said cheerfully.
“And bread, too,” Simon said.
Emma Leigh held her breath. Not a crumb remained.
“The bread’s gone,” Papa said, a bit harshly.
“Here, take the rest of mine,” Mama placed her remaining quarter piece of bread into Simon’s palm.
Emma Leigh fought the overwhelming urge to weep. The wooden spoon scraped across the bottom of the pot as she placed every bean she could find in the empty bowls. She hated this constant turmoil over food. At least she could get a good meal at the inn. That fact alone made her feel guilty when the pangs of hunger tugged at her siblings’ empty stomachs. Sometimes Mr. Jones asked Sarah to send the day’s leftovers home with Emma Leigh. Papa disliked the charity, grumbled about being able to care for his family, but he took the food nonetheless.
Mama cleared her throat. “How was your day, Emma Leigh? Did everyone like your idea for Christmas?”
Nodding, Emma Leigh set the food before her brothers before taking her place on the bench. “Everyone seemed excited and talked about it most of the day. Even Mr. Jones and his wife participated in the drawing.”
“Whose name did you receive?” Mama said, reaching across the table and taking Emma’s hand into hers. Mama’s thin hands felt comforting despite the sadness that constantly threatened the family.
“Sarah, the cook.”
Papa raised his brow. “What do you plan to give her over the next ten days?”
“I’m thinking of scripture, and I
already have paper.”
“Excellent choice.” He sat straighter in his chair. “I think tonight would be the perfect evening for me to bring out my fiddle. Anyone feel like singing?”
Mama smiled, and the children clapped. Christmas would be celebrated in spirit only at the Carter cabin, but they had enough love to fill a large house. If only she could provide a fine Christmas dinner for them.
Later on that night, Emma Leigh snuggled Charles and Elizabeth close to her, wrapping her arms around their little bodies in an effort to keep these two youngest members of the household warm. She allowed delicious thoughts about the day to occupy her mind.
Spending time with Thad in the stables had kindled something in her heart. Something she dared not allow herself to dwell upon except in moments like these. His lighthearted antics with Baxter carried her back to those wonderful days when they played together as children without cares or worries.
The desire to have a home of her own one day tore at her heart, especially when many of her friends were already married. But how could she desert Mama and Papa when they needed her income? Papa had borrowed money to help through the frightening period when he nearly died, but he must pay his debts. God had blessed him with renewed strength, and this year’s harvest had been better than the preceding year’s. Yet the scant supply of food on the table proved that her destiny, for now anyway, was at home helping her family.
Those working at the inn must surely know of her destitute situation, but she’d never spoken of it. Although she wore the same thin dress day after day, she refused to complain about her poverty. After all, God did supply her needs.
Emma Leigh clung to the hope of a better life for her family. Perhaps then she might meet a man as fine and godly as Thad. Until life proved easier, she’d keep smiling and giving, just as the Lord wanted.
Thad woke before dawn, excited about his gift for the first day of the Christmas celebration. He’d gotten the idea just before falling asleep last night—or rather God had given him the answer to his prayers.
“My, you’re bustling about early this morning,” Aunt Klara said, once she opened her bedroom door and saw Thad had already stoked the fire and added wood to the embers. It crackled like a welcoming old friend.
