An Old-Fashioned Christmas Romance Collection

by DiAnn Mills

  But one disappointment could not completely be dismissed. Angelina knew slippery conditions would keep her away from services at Second Street Baptist Church on the morrow. She had planned to start attending worship each week and become part of what surely must be a wonderful and loving Christian family. As she’d lain in bed the night before, she had tried to imagine Gabe’s expression when he stepped to the pulpit, surveyed his congregation, and discovered she was there. Just thinking of surprising him had brought a smile that refused to go away. Oh well, the worst that could happen would be a postponement of her plans until next Sunday. But that seemed a month away.

  “Ye seem a bit off your feed,” Aunt Clara remarked, helping herself to a small second portion of roasted chicken.

  “Hm?” Gabe let go of the fork he’d been turning absently in his fingers and swung his gaze to his aunt.

  “Not hungry?” she asked.

  He hadn’t realized his meal sat untouched before him. “I have a lot on my mind is all. Would you care if I save this for later?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “I finished everything on my plate, Pastor Gabe,” Noely boasted with her light lisp. She rested her forearm on the table, the fork in her fist standing straight up.

  “I’m real proud of you, pumpkin,” he told her, giving her wrist a squeeze.

  “Do I hafta go see more people again today?” she asked, blue eyes wide.

  He shook his head. “I have an errand to run by myself. You can keep Aunt Clara company.”

  “Oh, goodie! Then I can help make gingerbread cookies, huh, Auntie?” A pretty little grin disclosed her anticipation.

  “That ye may, darlin’. ‘Tis much more fun with two of us doin’ it, to be sure.” The older woman lifted a questioning glance to Gabe.

  Preferring not to dump extra worries on his aunt’s shoulders, he offered as much of a smile as he could work up, then blotted his mouth on his napkin and stood. “I’ll be at my study for about an hour, after which I must pay a call on someone,” he told her, then ruffled Noely’s curls. “Just thinking about fresh-baked gingerbread makes my mouth water. Sure hope it’ll be done before I get back.”

  She giggled. “Me, too.”

  The bright expectation in her eyes made him all the more aware that his own hopes were diminishing like sand through an hourglass.

  In the solitude of the church office, Gabe fell to his knees before his leather chair, needing to pour out his heart to God, yet finding no words. He dared not imagine tomorrow morning’s appeal to his congregation would be unsuccessful, nor could he allow himself to think past it. He had to believe God had things under control and was working out His purpose in the very best way for all concerned. Hadn’t he preached those lofty ideals often enough? Well, if the promises in the Bible were true for one person, they were true for everyone, and if that were the case, then they’d work for a little defenseless girl like Noely, too. And right now, he would do everything within his power to be sure they did.

  Gabe hadn’t managed to acquire many influential friends in the city during his years at Second Street, but God had mercifully provided him with one man who had offered wise counsel on several occasions. Rising from his knees, he pulled on his coat and strode purposefully out the door into the falling snow.

  Harrison Lawrence, an aged justice of the peace, now retired from most civic duties, had befriended Gabe when he’d arrived in Philadelphia and sought directions to his first pastorate. Evenings spent with the elderly man and his gracious wife during the first several months in the city were among some of his most treasured memories. Though the aging pair were affiliated with one of the more prosperous churches in Philadelphia, they had nevertheless welcomed Gabe into their stately home and treated him like the son they had never had. He regretted allowing the visits to taper off to almost nil.

  Reaching the four-story mansion fronting Fourth Street, its fountains and well-maintained gardens now dormant and covered with snow, Gabe inhaled a fortifying breath and rapped on the door.

  A soft-spoken butler ushered him across a marbled entrance hall flanked by huge urns of fragrant evergreen boughs and into an immense library, where books of every size and color lined floor to ceiling shelves on three walls. There the white-haired gentleman sat in a wheelchair behind the elaborate carved oak desk, a plaid woolen shawl draped about his stooped shoulders.

  “Gabe, my dear boy,” he said, extending a blue-veined hand. “I was just thinking of you the other day. How are you, lad?”

  “Fine, sir. Just fine.” Almost speechless at the toll taken on the once hearty man since his last visit some months ago, Gabe tried his hardest not to crush the feeble hand in his own grip. “I’m afraid I’ve neglected you far too long. But that was unintentional,” he added, trying not to be obvious about his surprise at seeing the wheeled conveyance.

  The keen hazel eyes astutely read his expression. “Don’t let this contraption get to you, son. I took a tumble down the stairs a few weeks ago and broke my leg. The doctor—tough old sawbones that he is—insists I stay off it till he says different.”

  Relieved that the man retained his sense of humor and still spoke with surprising vigor, Gabe grinned. “Well I hope your recovery is speedy, sir, and that you’ll be up and around very soon.”

  He nodded his thanks. “How’s that church of yours coming along these days?”

  “Very nicely, actually. It’s grown quite a bit over the last year or so.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I pray for you and your ministry every day.” The white head tipped slightly. “What brings you by?”

  Gabe released a nervous breath. “Some of that insightful counsel of yours, actually. I’ve always been thankful for the friendship and encouragement you and your dear wife, rest her soul, gave me when I first came to Philadelphia. Welcoming me into your home, praying with me, helped me over some of the rough spots. Not every minister fresh from his theological studies is fortunate enough to have such wonderful mentors.”

  “Yes, those were grand times. Margaret thought the world of you.”

  With a smile, Gabe continued. “I only wish I’d kept in better touch. I might have been able to help after your accident.”

  “Oh, pshaw!” he exclaimed with a wave of one hand. “I’ve got servants a’plenty, lad. I know a growing church keeps its pastor occupied. I’m just glad you came by today. Now, how can I help you?” His snow-white brows flared wide.

  Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know where to start. What I need most is an ear to confide in, a shoulder to lean on. And I thought the two of us might pray about a matter that’s weighing heavily upon me just now.”

  “Always a wise step, seeking the Lord’s intervention. I’m more than glad to offer my support.”

  Pausing, Gabe grouped his thoughts. “Not long ago—in that last blizzard we had, to be precise—a young woman brought an orphan to the parsonage, hoping we could find the little girl a new home. It seemed of considerable importance to her that the child not be sent to the asylum.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ve turned all my efforts since then into trying to fulfill that request and find a family willing to take the girl in. But so far, no one has come forward. Meanwhile, someone at church reported the matter to the authorities, and they’ve swooped in like vultures, intent upon following proper legal procedure to the very letter. They want to take the child away. Day after tomorrow, in fact. Today being Saturday, there’s nobody I can go to and slow things down.”

  Mr. Lawrence kneaded his thin jaw in thought. “I can see your concern. Once those sharp-nosed authorities get wind of something, they latch onto it like English bulldogs. If I know those buzzards right, they’re more interested in the fee they’ll get paid to house one more orphan than they are in the child’s welfare.” He frowned. “Pity you’ve never taken a wife.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Not that I haven’t considered it, mind you,” he admitted sheepishly. “I do have my widowed aunt still living with
me, but her health has been failing. She had quite a bad spell this past fall. So needless to say, I’m not in a position to take legal custody of Noely myself, no matter how much I wish I were.”

  “Hm. That’s too bad. If you only had a wife, they’d have no reason to bother anybody.”

  With a lopsided smile, Gabe shrugged.

  “Well, I’m sure none of this catches Almighty God by surprise,” the older man said, his eyes glinting. “But His ways are far above ours, and sometimes what seems wrong in our own judgment turns out to be wise beyond our ability to understand. Let’s lay the matter at His feet and let Him work out His will.”

  As the white-haired gentleman bowed his head, Gabe knelt by the desk.

  “Our Gracious Father,” Mr. Lawrence prayed, “we thank You for Your constant and abiding presence in our lives, for the unceasing blessings You shower upon us every day. We praise You that through Your Son we can come boldly into Your presence at any time, knowing You are concerned with all our circumstances. And now, Lord, we bring before You this little orphan and her needs. We ask You to stay the hands that might carelessly bring harm to her. Grant wisdom to young Gabe as he deals with this matter, and show Him Your perfect will. This we ask in the name above all names, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  As always, Gabe found himself drawing immense and immediate strength as much from his mentor’s unshakable faith as from the man’s fervent prayer. Renewed peace began to flow through him as he smiled and stood. He reached for the man’s gnarled hand and held it warmly in his own, trying not to acknowledge its almost transparent papery skin. “I do thank you, sir, for listening to me. Somehow, though I can’t explain it, I always feel better after coming to you.”

  “I trust things will turn out for you.”

  “I’m sure they will. I must get back now, spend whatever time is left with Noely and Aunt Clara.”

  “Well don’t be a stranger, son. Let me know what happens. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to keep all of you in my prayers.”

  Gabe felt a new spring in his step as he headed home after the visit. The city always looked so pretty with a new blanket of snow, especially at times like this, with the clouds drifting away and the sunshine adding its glory.

  And hearing one of his own convictions reinforced by Mr. Lawrence somehow revived his spirit. If Noely had parents to look after her, the authorities would have no reason to bother anybody. And an almost outlandish idea began to take root.

  Chapter 8

  Angelina was ecstatic when sunshine flooded her parlor in the middle of the afternoon. A glance outside revealed almost two inches of new snow, but at this time of day she could manage walking through it easily enough without fear of slipping. Putting aside her sewing, she limped upstairs to freshen her face to go visiting. Shortly after, in an emerald gabardine nicer than her typical work attire, her hair brushed and shining in its soft waves, she made her way up Elfreth’s Alley toward Second Street.

  The world glistened anew in white splendor as huge cloud puffs in the brilliant sky reflected blue-violet shadows across the snow. Angelina could not restrain a thankful prayer that she hadn’t been confined at home for long. Reaching the parsonage, she tapped lightly with the knocker.

  The door opened within seconds.

  “Angelina.” A curious spark in Gabe’s blue eyes made her heart trip over itself as he stepped aside to allow her in. “I was hoping you’d come by.” He took her coat and scarf and hung them while she removed her boots.

  “It’s lovely outside, isn’t it?” she remarked casually, certain that the curious tension in the air had to be her imagination. “I was lonesome for Noely.” She glanced around, becoming aware of an abnormal quiet in the parsonage.

  “Aunt Clara took her out to frolic in the snow for a little while. They’ll be back shortly. Come sit down.” Gabe gestured toward the settee. “We need to talk.”

  A prickle of apprehension fluttered up Angelina’s spine.

  “By the way, there’s fresh tea. I was just about to have some. Join me?”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  In moments he returned and handed her one of two cups he carried. “Sugar? Cream?”

  “Black is fine, thanks.” She sipped some of the soothing warmth as she watched him lower himself to the wing chair he seemed to prefer. Without even a hint of childish laughter anywhere in the vicinity, the ticking of a grandfather clock was the most prominent sound in the house. How far away had Gabe’s aunt taken Noely? “Any new developments?” she finally asked.

  He cocked his head. “I have gone to every possible home I could think of—and to a few where I had never met the people before.”

  “And no one wanted her?”

  “Well, actually, there is someone quite interested.”

  Angelina felt a lump rise in her throat at the announcement. The familiar combination of relief and sadness flooded her. “Is—is it someplace where Noely will be happy, do you think?” Schooling both her expression and her emotions to remain even, she took another sip of tea.

  “I sure hope so. It took me a lot of prayer to even find this solution, and if it’s going to work, it will probably continue to require prayer for a while. But something tells me this may be God’s will.”

  There is no way to argue against that, she told herself. If God had found a home for dear little Noely, it had to be the best one for her. But it was hard to think of her being passed on to strangers after all she had been through…and even harder to imagine never coming back here to visit again, never seeing the child who had become such a part of the three of them. She surmised Aunt Clara and Gabe would battle a similar attachment when they had to let go. Noely was such a presence, such a sparkle. The reality of how much she herself would miss the little girl made Angelina’s spirit deflate.

  Trying to breathe over the heaviness, she became aware that Gabe was staring at her. She raised her lashes and met his gaze.

  “Of course,” he said quietly, “I haven’t had the nerve to approach the party as yet and bring up the matter.”

  Something in his voice made Angelina’s cup rattle slightly in its saucer. She tightened her grip, then carefully set the cup on the lamp table beside her as the sandy-haired giant rose to his feet and crossed to the settee.

  He sat down next to her, and his huge hands captured one of hers. Her heart stopped. She could not draw away…nor was she certain she would have, had she the strength. Her pulse picked up again, making it increasingly difficult to breathe as the rush of it throbbed in her ears.

  “Please look at me, Angelina,” he pleaded softly.

  Knowing exactly how much she wanted to do just that made it all the more difficult. But she slowly obeyed, and warmth flooded her cheeks.

  Gabe’s eyes held hers. He didn’t speak for a moment, and she saw him swallow. She thought she detected the hint of a tremor in his touch. “I’ve…exhausted every other possibility. I haven’t mentioned this to Aunt Clara yet, but unless Noely is placed in a home immediately, the authorities are going to take custody of her. On Monday.”

  “Oh Gabe!” she gasped. “Right before Christmas? But I thought you said—”

  “That someone wants her,” he finished. “It’s true.”

  “Well, then, I—I don’t understand.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw, and then he smiled. “Noely needs a home. She has one here. She needs love, and she has that here, too. And she needs parents. A man and a woman who love her as if she were their own…” He paused, and his face turned a dark red. “I think she…” He cleared his throat. “I think she has a man and woman who love her right here, too.”

  Angelina’s lips parted at the implication she could read in his eyes.

  “I know this is sudden, Angelina, but there’s nothing I can do about that. If only there were more time, I could court you properly.” His forehead wrinkled. “Heaven knows a beautiful woman like you could do far better than a big ox like me.”

  To her dismay, Angelina felt tears we
ll up in her eyes and spill over her lashes. She fought to stem the tide.

  Gabe’s head bowed and his shoulders slumped. “I knew you’d find the very suggestion repulsive. Forgive me.” He released her hand and turned away. “You were my last hope. I thought that since we’re friends—good friends who can be honest and open with one another—maybe we could have a chance. Could make a home for Noely somehow.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I guess that was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

  Mustering all her resources, Angelina touched his forearm. “Sorry?” she whispered. “You think I’m repulsed by you?”

  “Well, you’re crying…” His voice was hoarse.

  “Only because I thought I would be unattractive to someone like you. Someone…perfect.”

  He lifted his head and stared at her, amazement filling his face. Then slowly he began to smile. “Believe me, sweet Angelina, I am far from that, I assure you.” He cupped her face in his palm, and his thumb gently brushed away a tear. “And there is nothing about you I would ever consider less than beautiful, not even that weak leg of yours. I’m sorry that it pains you—but it does nothing to mar your beauty. You will never have to hide it from me, I promise you that.”

  Angelina could not speak past the ache in her throat.

  His gaze never wavered as he searched her soul. “But with Noely’s welfare to consider, we can’t afford to take the time to do this properly. I must ask you now.” He paused, as if choosing his words very carefully, and she thought she heard a tremor in his voice when he continued, “Could you find it in your heart to marry a humble pastor? I vow I will spend the rest of my life courting you. But I have to tell you, we must do this today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

  Today! Angelina thought in shock. Tomorrow at the latest! There wasn’t time to list advantages and disadvantages, to reason things out, to find another—perhaps better—solution. A little girl needed them, needed them both, and needed them now. And Christmas was coming. Could either of them bear to break her heart on that day of all days?