by Irene Brand
His eyes twinkling, David said, “You might get snowbound and have to stay all winter.”
“I’ll have to risk that. As soon as Bobby accepts his father and Robert has time to decide what to do with a two-year-old, I’ll leave.”
After they opened their gifts, Julia brought her photo album and showed Robert the wedding picture of him and Margaret. The bewilderment on his face indicated plainly that he still didn’t recall his wedding.
“It seems a little familiar, so I may remember eventually. My doctors said that there would be some things I’ll never recall—for instance, the torture and abuse from my captors. I don’t want to think of that, of course, but I feel bad that I can’t remember my wife. If she’s anything like you, she must have been a fine person.”
“We weren’t much alike,” Julia said. She felt the envy for her sister and the hard feelings toward her parents disappear. Robert hadn’t loved Margaret, but if she’d lived, she would have been troubled over his disappearance for years. His homecoming might have been a disappointment to her. And if he’d left her to marry Nellie, Margaret couldn’t have dealt with that. She’d always had what she wanted. Finally, Julia was thankful that her parents had delayed her departure from Mistletoe; otherwise, she would never have learned to love Bobby—or David.
Robert hugged Bobby to him and sighed. “I dread this, but I must go see Dad and Mom. Dave, you’re a good friend to volunteer to go with me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Chapter Seventeen
The snow wasn’t accumulating, but snow flurries were still drifting downward as David and Robert walked down the hollow. As they passed Granny’s house, she came out with a basket of goodies for the Waldens, telling Robert she’d been praying that the reunion with his parents would be a happy one.
Looking upward to the trees as they walked, Robert said, “Those are the first mistletoe plants I’ve seen since I joined the army. I thought about them and Buffalo Creek hollow a lot during the early years of the war.”
When they approached the Walden home, Robert stopped and stared at the ramshackle house. “I can’t believe it! It was dark when I walked up on the porch last night, so I didn’t see how bad the place looks. It used to be the showplace of Buffalo Creek. How could the house get in such a terrible condition?”
“When they thought you were dead, your folks lost interest in everything.”
“I don’t know what to do except pound on the door and wait till someone opens it. If they don’t, I’ll force my way in.”
David smiled. “I wouldn’t advise that. Your dad keeps a loaded shotgun beside the front door, and he uses it often. He usually comes to the door when I stop here, and I have this basket from Granny. She sends them food every once in a while. Let me try to rouse him.”
David stepped on the porch and pounded several times on the screen door. “Mr. Walden, it’s David Armstrong. Granny sent you a Christmas basket.”
Two or three minutes passed before David sensed that someone was peering through the window. Soon a key turned the lock and the door opened. Robert stood to one side, out of sight.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Walden,” David said. “Granny sent some goodies for you.”
“Much obliged,” Mr. Walden responded in a coarse voice, opening the door to take the basket. “And how is Mrs. Armstrong?”
“Right peart, as usual,” David said.
Mr. Walden started to close the door. “Just a minute. I’ve also brought you something else.” David moved aside and Robert stepped into view.
Mr. Walden uttered an anguished cry and stepped backward. David prayed that Robert’s surprise homecoming wouldn’t be too much for his parents.
“Who is it?” he croaked.
“It’s me, Dad,” Robert said in a low, tremulous voice.
“My boy! My boy!” Mr. Walden shouted. He turned toward the rear of the house. “Ma! Come quick. Our boy’s come home.”
Robert stepped inside the house and into his father’s arms.
Tears streamed from David’s eyes as he hurriedly left the porch and returned to Julia’s cabin. He stirred the coals in the fireplace, sat on the sofa in the living room, and drew a deep breath. What a day! Robert’s reunion with his family. The big feast at Granny’s. And finally, time alone with Julia. She was in the bedroom reading a bedtime story to Bobby after having convinced him that his gifts would still be there the next morning.
He picked up the photo album lying on the table and looked closely at the picture of Robert and Margaret. Knowing that Julia had always had to take a backseat to her sister, he tried to determine what kind of wife Margaret would have made Robert. He doubted that she had any of the independence Julia possessed. Margaret would have never adjusted to the rigors of Mistletoe, and it was apparent that Robert intended to spend the rest of his life here.
Half asleep, he idly turned the album’s pages until he came to a photo that caused him to sit erect, staring in confusion. With shaking hands, he reached into his billfold and took out the “dream woman” photo he’d carried for years. Whoever had taken the picture had been closer to the woman than he’d been on the troop train, but there wasn’t any doubt that the photos had been taken at the same time.
“Julia!” he shouted. “Come here.”
“Quiet,” she cautioned as she appeared beside him. “Bobby just went to sleep.”
He grabbed her and pulled her beside him on the couch. He rained kisses on her hair, her face, and her hands. Startled, she leaned back in his embrace. “David, what’s come over you?”
“Look here!” He showed her the picture from his wallet and pointed to the photo in the album. “It’s a sign.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Is that you in the photo?”
“Yes. A friend and I were picnicking along the Potomac a few days before we started to England. I didn’t know she’d taken my picture until she had the film developed. Where did you get a copy?”
“It isn’t a copy. I took this picture,” he shouted, waving the photo in the air. “I was on a train. It slowed for a crossing. I raised the window and took your picture. I was on my way to the battlefields, and I didn’t have any special person waiting for me when the war was over. I thought you were probably the wife or girlfriend of some soldier who was already overseas and you were thinking about him. I wondered how it would seem to have you waiting for me when I came home. I got the film developed before we sailed, and I’ve carried this picture in my billfold ever since. I had it in place of a pin-up girl beside my bunk throughout the war. You’ll never know how many times I’ve looked at your picture.”
Tears misted his eyes, and Julia looked at him questioningly.
“Don’t you see? This is the sign I needed. I put out the fleece. If I received a sign that God didn’t expect me to keep a vow unless it was made to Him, I’d know it was right for me to marry again. This isn’t just a coincidence, Julia! It’s God’s way of bringing us together. Never in a million years would such a thing happen by chance. Will you marry me?”
Julia hesitated, and he sensed that she was counting the cost of becoming his wife. Suddenly she smiled and leaned more closely into his embrace. “Yes, David Armstrong. I’ll marry you.”
A week later, on New Year’s Eve, David stood before the altar with Robert beside him. Mistletoe church had never looked so festive. Dim candlelight disguised the cracks in the wallpaper, the scarred furniture, and the peeling paint. Every seat was full, and several people stood along the walls. The homes on Buffalo Creek had emptied to attend an occasion that had never happened before. A double wedding, with two members of the Armstrong family getting married at the same time. And Robert Walden, a man who’d been given up for dead, was one of the grooms.
It also seemed like a miracle that Oscar and Mamie Walden were seated on the front pew of the church. Clothed and in their right minds, they had come to witness the marriage of their son, who “was lost, and is found.”
He wondered if Julia would have liked a more elaborate ceremony, but once they’d agreed to marry, neither of them had wanted to wait. She hadn’t tried to notify her parents. They were still on vacation, and she didn’t have any way to contact them. Knowing how disillusioned she was from the lack of love she’d received from them, David was determined that she would never again doubt that she was loved.
“The Armstrongs are my family now,” she’d said.
They’d moved all of Julia’s possessions to his cabin, leaving the rental cabin for Robert and Nellie. With the back pay he’d received for the time he was missing in action, Robert could afford the rent until he found a steady job. Fortunately Bobby was fond of Nellie and he would remain in the cabin with his father and new mother.
The service started when Mrs. Brown played softly on the piano and sang “Love’s Old Sweet Song,” a traditional song for weddings in the area.
“Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low;
And the flick’ring shadows softly come and go.
Tho’ the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes love’s old song,
Comes love’s old sweet song.”
Julia and Nellie walked slowly up the aisle to the altar, where the men joined them. Granny set Bobby on the floor and admonished him to hold tightly to the white box that held wedding rings for the brides. He toddled up the aisle and gave the box to Reverend Brown. Then Robert took his son in his arms.
The short wedding service followed, and after they’d each taken their vows, “till death do us part,” the four of them repeated, in unison, words from the book of Ruth: “Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.”
Julia awakened the next morning in David’s arms. She still didn’t know how she would cope with living the rest of her life in Buffalo Holler, as the residents called it. Regardless, she’d chosen David’s people for her own and Mistletoe as her home. Resigned to take one day at a time, she didn’t try to envision what might cross their paths before she was buried by his side in the family cemetery. She hadn’t taken her vows lightly—whatever it took to be David’s wife, she was ready to do it.
After the night they’d spent together, she fully understood what God had meant when He said to Adam, “And they shall be one flesh.” Perhaps the day would come when they would leave the mountains, but if not, she would stay in Mistletoe without complaint, make a good home for David, and bear his children.
She hadn’t realized that he was awake until David pulled her close and kissed her. “How does it feel to be the wife of a mountaineer?”
David was struck dumb when her answer mimicked the mountain vernacular. “You’re my man. Hit’s my business, accordin’ to the Scripter, to obey e’er word you say. I’ve put on my heavy yoke of wifehood, and I aim to toe the mark, no matter whar I’m livin’.”
He erupted into laughter, and Julia joined him. Then he swept her into his arms, and after a pleasant interlude, she concluded that the yoke of wifehood wouldn’t be so heavy after all.
About the Author
In a writing career spanning three decades, Irene Brand has won numerous awards and published nearly fifty books that have sold more than two million copies. Irene primarily writes inspirational romances, but she has also published nonfiction books, devotional materials, and magazine articles. Before she became a full-time writer, Irene taught for 23 years in public schools. Her other passions include traveling (she has visited all fifty states and thirty-five foreign countries) and history (she holds a Master’s Degree in the subject). Her published titles include Love Finds You in Valentine, Nebraska, Where Morning Dawns, Listen to Your Heart, and the Kentucky Brides collection. Irene is an active member of her church and is affiliated with several writing organizations. She is a lifelong resident of West Virginia, where she lives with her husband, Rod.
www.irenebrand.com
Love Finds You Under the Mistletoe:
Once Upon a Christmas Eve
BY ANITA HIGMAN
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
Prologue
One Christmas Eve a baby girl was left on the front step of The Little Bethlehem Shoppe in the village of Noel. The young mother watched from a distance, waiting until the owner of the shop found the wicker basket with the sleeping child inside. Then the young mother, a stranger to the town, disappeared into the night and was never seen again.
The shopkeeper, a kindly gentleman named Albert Goodnight, adopted the baby and named her Holly Rose. She became the greatest treasure in his life…
Chapter One
The people of Noel always said Holly Goodnight was like a rock tumbler—that she had a gift for smoothing out the edges of other people’s lives. Holly grinned at the thought. I probably have more in common with a rock hammer.
With a smile and a wave Holly breezed out of the post office and then darted across Main Street, just in time to grab Miss Flora’s arm as she stumbled on the curb.
“Thanks, dearie.” The older woman patted Holly’s cheek.
“No problem.” Once Miss Flora got her bearings, Holly kicked a ball back to a youngster before it rolled out into the street. The kid, little Perry somebody, didn’t thank her. He never did. The little knave. Holly rolled her eyes at him and headed toward The Little Bethlehem Shoppe on Main.
A male tourist, a tolerably handsome one, ambled out of one of the shops, yanked out his earbuds, and stared at Holly as if she were wearing her reindeer antlers. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Holly felt one of those mysterious life moments coming on, when the casual gaze between two strangers takes a crucial turn. It goes like this: somewhere in the heavenlies an angel flips a switch, bathing the couple in a halo, suspending time while the two assess each other. For dating potential, love, marriage, children. Retirement. Term life insurance.
Get hold of yourself, Holly. The sweet alchemy between them, which may have been only in her imagination, vanished like a whirl of snow.
The stranger bowed slightly. “Good day, mademoiselle.” He winked.
The man, who had appeared to be around her own age of thirty and who really was more than sufficiently handsome in a Hugh Grant sort of way, traipsed off, leaving Holly on the sidewalk gazing after him.
An early autumn breeze, chillier than usual, sent a shiver right through her, making her snuggle inside her red cape. It was just as well that the ogling incident hadn’t turned into a coffee date. He was wearing loafers, after all. That couldn’t have been a good sign. And tweed and tortoiseshell glasses and a skinny tie no less. So passé. Worst of all, he smelled like antibacterial soap.
She shook off her discombobulation and stepped inside the little red brick Christmas shop where all things were bright and beautiful. “Dad, I’m baaack.”
Her father came from the storage room, embracing a pumpkin pie as if it were a long lost friend.
“You look flushed, Dad. You okay?”
“I’m merely famished from hunting down all the sweets you keep hiding from me.” He took a forkful of filling from the middle of the pie and ate it without even the slightest expression of guilt. “Where are the red roses for the counter?”
Holly shrugged and replaced her cape with a velvet bibbed apron.
“So, you didn’t make it back with the
pot of flowers again?”
“Well, I ran into Vincent Hagerdey. He looked so sad about his wife that I—”
“You gave the roses to Vince to cheer up his wife.” He grinned.
“She never leaves the house anymore with those inoperable bunions, so—”
“Bunions, my eye. The woman never leaves the house because she’s addicted to the soaps.”
“Well, that too. But I told Vincent to tell his wife that the roses would thrive if she just planted them outside. Maybe it’ll get her working in her garden again.” Holly opened her satchel. “Look, I bought you a present.”
He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “Did you get me any of those tea cakes full of white frosting?”
“You mean full of heart attack–inducing cholesterol? I bought you something useful.” Holly pulled out a blood pressure machine she’d found at the pharmacy.
Her father mouthed the word, “Boring.”
“Look, it’s got all sorts of digital features. It even detects an irregular heartbeat. Isn’t that awesome?”
“Well, irksome might be the preferred word.” Her dad placed the pie on the counter. “Okay, Cricket.” He gave Holly a bear hug. “I know the present really says I—”
“I want you around for a lot more Christmases to come.”
Their foreheads dipped toward each other, touching. Always a nice fit. Even though her dad wasn’t her biological father, God had cut them out of the same material. They had the same shiny dark hair and chocolatey elfin-shaped eyes, and they were both soft around the fringes, enough to make a hug feel like home.
Her father released her and then walked away with a grin full of mischief.
