by DiAnn Mills
“Yes,” Livy gasped.
With caution, he held her against him with one arm and handed her a sprig of mistletoe bound with a red ribbon. “Hang the string over the tack, please.”
She grasped the bright spray of white berries and raised it above his head. “Finished,” she called.
His stomach knotted as he lowered her, and when her feet touched the floor, he kept her close in his arms. She faced him and hesitated. What if she resisted him? He swallowed the anxiety that rose to his throat. It tumbled downward, tangling around his heart. As the possibility filled his mind, she tried to step backward, but he kept his grasp firm, binding her to his chest.
His fear faded. She didn’t struggle or cry out. Instead, a look of wonder filled her face. “I don’t have to tell you what happens now, do I? It’s tradition.”
Livy’s lips parted with a gasp of surprise. As if in suspended motion, he lowered his lips to hers.
At his touch, Livy closed her eyes and savored the sweetness she had only dreamed about. A roar grew in her ears. Her knees weakened. Would she faint? Would she die?
His gentle lips lingered on hers until she sensed she would scream. Warmth spread through her, growing and swelling, until she felt ignited with a dazzling glow. Sparks. Flame. Fire. Helen’s words burned in her mind.
As tenderly as their lips had met, he drew away, and when she lifted her lids, his looked as weighted as hers felt. A heated flush burned on her cheeks and spilled down her neck, and she released a sigh.
“Oh Livy. Dearest. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. Have I offended you? Please say no.”
She stumbled backward, her hands clutching at the folds in her dress. “Only surprised me, Andrew. I’ve never…no man has…I’m—” No words expressed her feelings.
“You’re beautiful.” He tilted her chin upward with his thumb while a finger caressed her lips. “And you’re loved.”
Loved? But what of Miss Parker and his logging career? And what of Henry Tucker and…? Livy halted her racing mind. “Andrew, please, don’t say things you don’t mean. I can’t bear it.”
“I mean every word. I know we’ve only met, Livy, but sometimes God speaks in ways we never imagine. God’s guided me to you. I believe that with all my heart.”
“But…I’m not sure of my heart. It’s beating so fiercely, I think I’ll die.”
He slid his arm around her shoulder and nestled her against his chest. “You won’t die, Livy. You’ve only begun to live. Me, too. I won’t press you, Livy. I only ask you to pray that God’s will be done. If you do, I know you’ll love me as I love you.”
The thundering of her heart drowned his next words, but Livy didn’t need to hear more. She’d heard all she ever longed to hear. “You’ll love me as I love you.”
Chapter 9
Livy avoided Andrew throughout the evening as the family adorned the tree with apples, strings of cranberries, candy, cookie ornaments, paper creations, and candles. Not that she didn’t care about him, but that she cared too much. As soon as possible, she took her leave, hurrying to her room to ponder the day’s events.
Sleep evaded her, her thoughts rushing and surging throughout the night. If she hadn’t kept her wits about her, she would’ve awakened Helen from a sound sleep to lay her tangled heartstrings before her. Livy cared deeply for Andrew, yet she couldn’t forget all the difficulties she’d bear, especially his months away at the logging camp. Trying to push her fears aside, she reminded herself that God would guide her through the difficult times.
Livy felt bleary-eyed when the sun’s golden rays sneaked through the window. During the night, the joyful song they had sung lingered in her mind. “While I tell of Yuletide treasure.” She recalled, again, Helen’s treasure, her keepsake, and longed to know its meaning. Finally, Livy pulled herself from the bed and faced the day.
With the holiday at hand, Livy joined Helen, adding the final touches to the decorations, dinner menu, and gifts. The parlor door remained closed, awaiting the evening’s festivities. And Davy, feeling stronger, hovered near Livy, not giving her a moment of privacy.
Finally before the dinner hour approached, she coaxed Davy to nap, explaining he’d enjoy the evening more fully. With him safely in bed, Livy knocked on Helen’s door. Hearing nothing, Livy turned away, but as she did, the door opened, and Helen freed a soft chuckle.
“It’s you, Olivia. Charles and Andrew are like children trying to peek at their gifts. I assumed you were one of them. Come in.”
Livy entered, her eyes shifting immediately toward the wooden heart. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I didn’t sleep well last night. Since you offered to listen, I’d like to take a few minutes, if I could.”
“Please sit, Olivia. I meant what I said. Whatever your worries, my ears are open.”
Helen sank into a cozy armchair, and Livy situated herself on an adjacent settee. “So many things are banging in my head, I don’t know where to begin. When I spoke to you yesterday, I concealed some of my strongest feelings…out of embarrassment, I suppose. Since I arrived, Andrew aroused my interest, and now, I’m very fond of him.”
To Livy’s astonishment, a smile lit Helen’s face.
“I tried not dream about it. He’s handsome and fun, and many attractive woman vie for his attention. I’m quiet and restrained, not his type at all. Yesterday he made me blush like a schoolgirl.”
Helen frowned. “Nothing inappropriate, Olivia, I pray.”
“Oh no, compliments. Lovely things no man has ever said before.”
Helen chuckled. “Ah, I feel better.”
“But yesterday, Helen, after dinner, he asked me to help hang the mistletoe…and he—”
“He kissed you!”
“Yes, the kiss was wonderful, better than I’ve dreamed, but it was more than a kiss. He said he loved me.”
Helen bounded from her seat and wrapped her arms around Livy. “This is even better than I dreamed. At tea when I said maybe your visit had answered my prayers, this was my hope—that Andrew and you would fall in love.”
Livy’s mind spun. She’d been so certain it was the heart that had answered Helen’s prayers.
“I saw a spark of interest in Andrew’s eyes when you arrived,” Helen continued. “I’ve always hoped he’d find a charming Christian woman, but he had his own mind. And he’s an adult. I couldn’t sway him. But I prayed that God would. And you see, my prayers are answered.” Helen quieted, then peered at Livy. “You do love him, Olivia? I pray you didn’t spend the night wondering how to tell him you don’t love him.”
“No, no, that’s not my problem. I’m afraid I love him too much. That my feelings are only passion and not real, lasting love. I’ve imagined his lips on mine and his arms holding me close—emotions that I know God doesn’t approve.”
Helen sank onto the cushion beside her. “Don’t you know that God created both love and passion? He directs a man and wife to share the intimacy of their lives. It’s only when we step beyond our marital beds that God becomes angry. Weigh your feelings for Andrew, Olivia. Do you think only of his lips on yours? Or, do you picture a life together, sharing all the joys and sorrows of marriage?”
Livy’s clenched hand covered her heart. “I’ve compared it all: sickness, health, trials, joys, work, play, everything that happens.”
Helen patted her hand. “Then if you can accept it all, God’s blessed you with both love and passion. Not all marriages are built on both.”
Livy released a deep sigh. “I should talk with Andrew. I didn’t respond very well to him.” She paused, her interest drawn to the dresser top. As the keepsake tugged at her curiosity, a shiver rippled down her arms. “Helen, when you said my visit might be an answer to your prayer, I suspected you referred to the package I brought you from John. It was half the heart on your dresser, wasn’t it?”
Livy expected anger or distress, but a tender smile rose to Helen’s lips. “Yes, it was the heart, but it wasn’t the keepsake that I referred to. My pra
yer was you and Andrew. The heart’s a different story altogether. Would you like to hear it, Livy? It might explain what I was talking about the other day.”
“Please, tell me, Helen,” Livy said, edging forward, eager to hear her explanation.
“I think it makes a rich closure to our discussion.” She settled into the chair. “Your brother, John, and I knew each other before I became Ruth’s friend. We were neighbors and played together as children. But when we became aware of each other as a man and woman—I should say boy and girl—things changed. We fell in love.” She smiled. “Or so we thought.”
John and Helen? Livy’s pulse raced.
“He was a wonderful woodcarver, like Charles, and maybe that’s what brought about their friendship. For a birthday gift when I was fifteen, John carved the heart and divided it in half. We shared each other’s heart, he said, and when we married our hearts would become one.”
“Helen, I never knew John to be so romantic.”
“Oh yes, he was. Very romantic. But the story continues. Around the same time, Ruth came into my life. So she became part of John’s life, too. Ruth was frail. She had a weak heart, and John—you know how kind he is—was always around to help her or encourage her on.
“Soon, John spent more time with Ruth than with me. I was angry, I’m ashamed to admit, and wished terrible things on Ruth. But one day, I realized that God guides our walk in life. John, with his patience and quiet gentleness, was a perfect husband for Ruth, not for me. Then I noticed Charles…and Charles noticed me.”
The story had captured Livy’s imagination. “Was he the spark that became a flame?”
“Ah yes, like a match struck to yellowed paper. Our love ignited about as quickly. We were young, but God guided us to marry. And, Olivia, I’ll never be sorry. Not for one moment. God’s will was best for me…and for Ruth and John, too. He’s made her a fine husband.”
So caught in the story, Livy gasped for air. “But what about the heart? Why did he return it now?”
“Oh, I suppose he found it after all these years, tucked somewhere in his belongings. I don’t know, but I was touched when I saw it. Touched because he gave back my heart. He reminded me in the dearest way that we’re both whole and complete in our lives as we live them now.”
“You don’t think he’s loved you these past years?” Livy whispered.
“My, my, no, Olivia. He’s loved Ruth forever. Your brother is such a gentleman, a good man. He would never be unfaithful, nor would I. God guided us as I believe He’s guided you.”
Livy flung her arms around Helen’s neck. “Like you said, sometimes God sends people on a path they hadn’t planned to travel. I think my path was here.”
Helen squeezed Livy’s hand. “And I can’t tell you how happy I am.”
A tap on Livy’s door brought her to her feet. When she opened it, Andrew grinned, holding a large package. “Delivery from the tailor shop,” he said, his dimples deepening. “I imagine you’ve been waiting for this.”
“Or I’d be wearing rags this evening,” she said. For the first time, she looked at Andrew without a nagging fear or frightening questions.
She moved away from the door, and he stepped inside, placing the large parcel on her bed. As she moved past him, he caught her hand. “Have you been thinking, Livy?”
“I have. A great deal…in fact, all night long.”
“Me, too,” he said, laughing. “And can you tell me your thoughts?”
“I might,” she said, “and then I might not.”
“Livy, your smile takes my breath away. I’ll wait. You’ll tell me when you’re ready…but I know your answer. You can’t hide it from me.” He strolled from the room, leaving a portion of his happiness lingering behind.
Livy unwrapped her gowns and hung them, choosing the violet frock for the evening. Time was short, and she saw to Davy, and then dressed for the Christmas Eve celebration. Tonight was one to truly celebrate—a night of love, God’s gift of love, His Son born to save the world, and her own gift of love for Andrew.
When she’d completed her toilette, she took Davy’s hand, and they descended the stairs. As they reached the bottom step, Grace called the family for dinner. Though the meal was tasty, Livy felt like a child, waiting for the moments following dinner.
Finally, Charles stood, offering a Christmas prayer, and they followed him to the hall outside the parlor. In anticipation, Davy jiggled from foot to foot. When Charles swung the French doors open, Livy reveled in the spectacular Christmas tree.
Davy rushed forward while Livy controlled her desire to join him. She marveled at the candles glowing from every branch. She felt childlike as she approached the towering tree that radiated light, reminding her of the star of Bethlehem. Beneath the tree, packages stood wrapped in brown paper, cloth, or lace all tied with ribbons and bows. Nearby a water-filled bucket stood with the rag mop to douse any possible fire.
“Livy, would you lead us tonight? Why don’t we sing a carol,” Charles suggested, stroking his mustache. “What will it be, Helen?”
“ ‘Silent Night,’ “she said, stepping forward and taking Charles’s hand, then Davy’s. “It’s my favorite.”
Livy grasped Davy’s free hand, and Andrew stepped to her left and slid his fingers through hers. As they clasped hands around the tree, Livy sang the first notes of the carol, and they joined her. Tears welled in Livy’s eyes. She’d never experienced this kind of happiness. Her life seemed complete.
When the song ended Davy was the first to open his presents. From the first wrapper he pulled a strange contraption that Charles explained was a stereopticon. Livy had heard Queen Victoria had taken a fancy to them, but this was the first she’d seen.
“See the cards, Davy,” Helen coached. “Put one in the machine and look at the picture.”
Livy removed a card from the package and slid it into the brackets. Davy held it to his eyes and let out a squeal. “It flew at me,” he said in wonder. “Look, Aunt Livy.”
Livy lifted the contraption and gasped while laughter rang around the room.
When Livy finished her last gift, Andrew slipped another into her hand, a small package wrapped in brown paper tied with a lace ribbon. Inside the package lay a hand-carved angel, delicate and detailed. She eyed Charles, but he shook his head and nodded toward Andrew.
“You carved this?” Livy asked, gaping.
He grinned.
“Yourself?” She eyed the exquisite detail again. “I’m impressed. No, amazed. It’s beautiful.” She pressed the tiny carving to her chest. “Thank you, I’ll cherish it.”
“You’re an angel, Livy. It seemed right.”
“I love it. It’s my very own Christmas treasure.” She looked toward Helen who smiled with understanding.
While they thanked each other for the gifts, Grace appeared at the doorway with a tray of hot chocolate and a plate of Christmas desserts. Livy longed to speak with Andrew, but the family’s excitement continued without a break. She knew her talk would wait until Christmas Day.
Chapter 10
Christ Church radiated with candle glow, garland, and wreaths. Following the service, Helen sent Andrew to tell the Dailys what time they should arrive for Christmas dinner. Livy cringed inwardly, wondering how Agatha would react when she learned of her new relationship with Andrew. She hoped to spare the young woman embarrassment.
As they left the building, Roger approached her and murmured in her ear. “Andrew told me the news. I am happy for you, Livy. You deserve a fine man like Andrew.”
Embarrassed, she mumbled her thanks, but when she stepped outside, she filled with relief. If Roger knew, then Agatha would be forewarned.
As the bays trotted along the street, snowflakes drifted from the sky like downy feathers. Arriving home, Andrew beckoned Livy to remain in the sleigh. “Mother, Father, I thought I’d take Livy for a short ride.”
Charles patted Andrew’s arm with a sly grin. “Let me send out a buffalo robe for you.”
When he agreed and followed Helen into the house, Livy was grateful. In a moment, the stableboy rushed out with a heavy lap robe, and Andrew took the reins, guiding the horses onto the roadway.
Gliding through the fresh snow, Andrew drew a nervous breath. He gathered the straps in one hand and wrapped his free hand around Livy’s. His heart swelled at their nearness. When they reached the river, he turned the bays along the shore until they approached a small grove of trees that blocked the wind, and he reined the horses to a standstill. He marveled at the hazy golden sun making diamonds on the falling snow. Wrapping his arm around Livy, he nestled closer to her side, and she cuddled nearer.
“Could we talk?” His heart thundered in his ears. “I hoped we might be ready to—”
“I wanted to talk with you last evening, but the time never seemed right.”
Praying her words were what he longed to hear, he waited, suspended until he could no longer tolerate the silence. “And what do you have to tell me, Livy?”
“I do love you, Andrew.”
“Oh Livy, you’ve made me the happiest man on earth. Then you’ll marry me?” He captured her face against his palm.
“Yes.”
“Soon?” he asked, awed by her radiant face.
“Soon.”
He drew her into the fold of his arms, and Livy embraced him fully. He lowered his mouth to hers, and she yielded to his kiss. Though the cold wind blew past the sleigh, Andrew’s body warmed and ignited with love for the cherished woman in his arms. When they withdrew, he faltered, seeing the look of concern on Livy’s face.
“We’re not free of problems though, Andrew. I know my life will be lonely when you’re away at the logging camp, winter after winter. And though I don’t know exactly, I’d imagine a lumberjack doesn’t make a large income. So I’ve thought about it and decided I’d move here soon and teach music. I enjoy it very much, so it’ll be no problem. By the time we’re married, I’ll make—”
