by Bonnie Leon
Jean stepped inside the depot, hoping for more information. The man at the desk didn't know any more than what Ray had told her. The room was overcrowded and warm, so Jean returned to the outdoor platform, welcoming the cold air.
“There you are,” Jessie said, walking up to her and pulling her into a tight hug. “I came as soon as I heard. I've been praying nonstop.”
Jean stepped away. Clutching the older woman's hand, she said, “I'm scared.”
Laurel felt queasy and shaky. The pains were still coming, but thankfully they hadn't worsened. Still, Laurel was frightened. What if they weren't rescued? Hours had passed, and they were still trapped. She shivered. It was cold, and the storm had intensified.
Celeste sat down beside her. “How are you feeling?”
“About the same, but kind of sick.”
“A lot of people are feeling sick. I think it's the cold and the fear. Try not to worry. Someone will be here soon.”
Pain hit Laurel, spreading across her back and over her abdomen. She chewed on her lip.
“You having another one?”
Laurel nodded.
“Even if this is labor, first babies take hours and hours. Everyone says so. You'll be in Palmer in plenty of time.” She smiled, but even Celeste couldn't disguise her apprehension.
Adam returned with a cup of tea. “Here, I thought you might like some. The porter made it.” When he talked, the air fogged.
“It's getting colder. What if they don't come soon?” Laurel asked.
“They'll be here.” He handed the tea to her and tucked the blankets in tighter. “Everything's going to be fine.”
“Everyone keeps saying it's going to be fine, but how does anyone know?” Laurel gazed out at the black night. Winds howled and frozen pellets spattered the window. “No one's going to come for us in this weather.”
“Rescue teams do what they have to. You watch; they'll send out sled dogs or something.”
“If they come, do you think they'll bring a doctor?”
“Of course.”
Another pain tugged at her abdomen. It didn't hurt too badly. Maybe this wasn't real labor. Laurel closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat. Father, please keep my baby safe. Don't let it be born out here.
Laurel knew the baby would probably die if it came this early, no matter where it was born. It would be too tiny to survive. She grabbed Adam's hand. “Maybe we should have moved to Chicago. At least they have good hospitals there.”
“Dr. Donovan is a good man. He knows what he's doing.”
“I shouldn't have come today.”
Adam gently smoothed back her amber hair.
Tears seeped from Laurel's eyes. “I always have to do things my way. I'm sorry.”
“Hush.” Adam kissed her brow. “You and the baby will be fine. Remember, the doctor said it's normal to have pains the last couple of months.”
“I know, but the ones I'd been having didn't hurt. These do.”
Robert peeked around from behind Adam. He offered Laurel an encouraging smile. “We'll be on our way before you know it.”
Another hour passed before the barking of dogs carried over the winds. “They're here!” someone shouted.
The storm was too severe to allow anyone to leave the train, but the sleds brought a doctor and a nurse who immediately went to work suturing lacerations, binding sprains and breaks, and soothing the injured. Adam managed to get a nurse to look at Laurel.
“You think you might be in labor?” the pretty nurse asked.
“It's my first one. I'm not sure,” Laurel said.
The nurse placed a stethoscope against Laurel's abdomen and listened. “The baby sounds good and strong.” She rested a hand on Laurel's abdomen and waited. After Laurel had three of the cramping pains, the nurse removed her hand and smiled. “You and the baby are fine. I don't think you're in true labor. The contractions are irregular, and they're not strong.” She patted Laurel's arm. “You don't have to worry. A truck is making its way here, and we'll have everyone out of the train soon.”
“Thank you so much,” Laurel said. “I can't believe you made it here in the storm.”
The nurse grinned. “When I came up from Seattle, I didn't expect to be mushing through a blizzard to treat patients, but life is full of surprises.” She moved on.
The storm had quieted by the time three army trucks with canvas-covered beds slogged through the snow. Adam and Robert helped transfer passengers from the train to the trucks. They were especially gentle with Laurel. Once in a truck, she made her way to a bench along the side of the bed and sat. The seat was hard and cold, but at least they were protected from the weather and on their way home.
Adam climbed in and sat beside Laurel. Exhausted, Laurel leaned against him. She'd be happy to get home.
“How you feeling?” he asked.
“Better. I'm not having as many cramps,” she said, closing her eyes and longing for sleep. But there would be no rest. The going was slow as the truck ground its way through fresh powder. It slid and bumped, and Laurel wondered more than once if they were going to end up off the road.
Her back ached and the pains had increased again, but she said nothing to Adam, not wanting to worry him. She pulled a wool blanket up under her chin and imagined how it would feel to crawl into bed and sleep.
Hands stuffed into his pockets, Ray leaned against the outside wall of the depot while Jean paced the platform. “It's been hours,” she said. “We should have heard something by now.”
“We'll hear.”
Stepping outside and wearing her usual calm expression, Jessie offered Jean a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this. It'll warm you up.” She glanced at Ray. “Would you like some?”
“No. I've already had too much.”
Jean cradled the cup between her gloved hands. She gazed down the tracks. “What's happening out there? Why won't anyone tell us?”
“They don't know anything,” Ray said.
“What if no one can get to them? It's so cold.”
Jessie smiled softly. “Now Jean, God knows all about the weather. He'll take care of our loved ones.” She smiled, and the creases at the corners of her eyes deepened. Resting a hand on Jean's shoulder, she squeezed. “Maybe you ought to go home and get some sleep. I'll make sure to let you know when we hear something.”
“I can't leave.”
“Brian and Susie are probably needing you, and you can't do anything here.”
A jolt of reality rolled through Jean. She'd forgotten about Brian and Susie. “Of course. You're right.” She stared down the tracks, willing the train home. “I need to go.” She turned her eyes on Jessie. “You promise to send someone for me as soon as you hear?”
“I promise.”
“I'll take you home,” Ray offered.
“Thank you,” Jean said, close to tears. Ray's kindness only made it harder to maintain her self-control. She needed Will. He'd always been there to help her face a crisis. “All right. Let's go.”
Leaving the protection of the depot, snow pelted her and wind ripped at her coat. She ducked inside the car and settled into the seat. Ray hurried around to the other side and climbed in. “It's getting worse again,” Jean said. “Is it safe to drive?”
“Sure. I've driven in worse.” He started the engine and eased onto the road.
Ray stopped at the Jenkins's and picked up Brian and Susie. Before returning to the depot, he helped get them into bed. Leaving Susie snug, he crossed the hallway to Brian's room.
Jean gave Brian a kiss.
“Mom, tonight would it be OK if Mr. Townsend said prayers with me?”
“Of course,” Jean said, glancing at Ray. She walked to the doorway and waited.
Tucking the blankets up around the youngster, he stood. Brian caught his hand. “I'm scared. What if something bad happens to Luke and Laurel? And what about Adam and the baby? Could you pray with me?”
“Sure,” Ray said, kneeling beside the bed. Brian kept a tight hold on his hand.
“I suppose we ought to close our eyes,” Ray said. Brian squeezed his shut. With a smile Ray closed his and began, “Dear Father in heaven, we know you're with our loved ones. But even knowing that, we're scared. So, Lord, we ask you to take good care of Luke, Laurel and the baby, Adam, Celeste, and all the others on that train. Bring them home safe and sound.” Ray paused. “We know you're in charge of this world and everything in it and that we can trust you, but sometimes we forget. Give us peace. And I ask especially that you would help Brian and Susie and their mama to get a good sleep. Remind them that you're watching over all of us. Amen.”
Brian smiled up at Ray and threw his arms around the big man's neck. “Thank you. You pray almost as good as my dad. I wish you could be my new dad.”
Ray glanced at Jean. Her face had turned red, and he offered her a small smile. He cleared his throat. “Brian, bein' your father would be a real honor, but I can't be. You already have a father. How about if we're just good friends?”
“I guess, but I still wish you were here all the time.”
“I'll be here whenever you need me.” Ray patted Brian's hand, then stood and walked out of the room.
“Good night,” Jean said and turned out the light.
“Night.” Brian sat up. “Mama, would you mind if Mr. Townsend was my new dad?”
“Well, it's not a matter of minding. I like Mr. Townsend. He's a fine man, but he's not your father.”
“I know, but Daddy's not here, and I like Mr. Townsend. He's almost like my dad.”
“He's a good, good friend, and you can thank God for that,” Jean said with finality. “Now, good night.”
When Jean walked out, Ray stood in the hallway. He glanced at her, then shaking his head, said, “I don't deserve those kids' love.”
Jean hugged herself about the waist and leaned an arm against the wall. She asked softly, “Why do you say that?”
“I've done more bad than good in my life. Seems after all that, I ought to be punished rather than … well, rather than loved. My daughter's been so forgiving and now Brian and Susie.”
“God doesn't always give us what we deserve. We're all evil. No one is perfect. But he loves us anyway.” She smiled softly. “The miracle is that when he sacrificed his Son, all believers were made worthy of riches. We can stand before God sinless and pure. Even you, Ray Townsend.” She grinned, then headed for the stairs. Stopping at the landing, she said, “I don't think you understand how much you've done for us. I owe you a lot.”
Ray's face crumpled in anguish. “How can you say that? Your husband would be alive today if it weren't for me.”
“How many times do I have to say what happened wasn't your fault before you'll believe it?” Keeping her hand on the balustrade, she took a step. “I'll pray you come to understand that and how important you are—not just to us, but to God.” With that, Jean walked down the stairs.
Chapter 26
JEAN ROLLED OUT COOKIE DOUGH WHILE LAUREL HELPED SUSIE REMOVE A cookie cutout and set it on a baking sheet. “It's pretty,” Susie said, patting the bell-shaped cookie.
“Look at mine,” Brian said, lifting away his cookie cutter to reveal a perfectly shaped reindeer.
“That's very nice,” Laurel said, leaning over the table, her round belly preventing her from reaching a Santa-shaped cutter.
Miram handed it to her.
Brian grinned. “Your stomach is sure getting big.”
Running a hand over her abdomen, Laurel said, “I'm getting fat.”
“It's 'cause the baby's growing. Mommy told us.” Susie patted Laurel's tummy.
“We don't have long to wait now,” Brian said.
“It can't be soon enough for me.” Laurel sat with a groan.
“Will Santa bring a present for the baby?” Susie asked.
“I don't know. Maybe.” Jean raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“I'm sure he will.” Miram returned a bowl of butter to the icebox. “And maybe the baby will arrive by Christmas. What a nice surprise that would be. I'm so thankful you didn't have that child on the train.”
“Me too,” Laurel replied. “That was quite a scare. Just pre-labor I guess.”
Jean wrapped an arm around Laurel's waist. “God was watching over you and everyone else on that trip,” she smiled.
Brian popped a piece of dough into his mouth. “Christmas is tomorrow. So do you think the baby might come tonight?”
“Only God knows.” Jean picked up the tray of cookies. “These are beautiful.” Opening the oven, she slid the cookie sheet in.
“Mama, if I stay up and watch for Santa, will he still come?” Brian asked, cutting another Santa cookie.
“Nope. He wants children to be asleep.” Jean looked at a nearly full tray of unbaked cookies. “I think these would look real pretty with a sprinkle of sugar. What do you think?”
“Yes. Sugar,” Susie said, pressing a round cutter into the dough.
A knock sounded at the back door. “Now, who could that be? It's too early for Adam.” Miram walked to the door and opened it. A burst of cold air swept into the room.
Celeste stood in the doorway with a big turkey in her arms. “Any solace for the cold and weary?” she asked with a smile.
Miram chuckled and pushed up her glasses. “Come in. Come in.”
Celeste stepped in.
Ray stomped his boots free of snow but didn't step inside. Jean went to the door. He hefted a bulging canvas bag and whispered, “I've got something for the children.” Smiling conspiratorially, he stripped back his hood.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Jean glanced over her shoulder. “I guess you can put them on the shelf.” She nodded at a shelf above the washing machine.
“What's that?” Brian asked, standing in the doorway.
“Just some extra potatoes I thought you might need.”
“We got plenty of potatoes.”
“Well, we can always use more,” Jean said, hustling the boy back inside.
Celeste held up the bird. “Dad said turkey used to be a custom in your family. We figured this Christmas would be a good time to bring back the tradition.”
“Yes. I've missed it. We've tried to raise some, but I think they're too dumb to survive in this kind of weather.”
Ray set the bag up out of sight of prying eyes. Susie hugged his legs, and he hefted her up. “Hi, Mr. Townsend,” she said with a bright smile.
“Hello, there.”
“This is a nice surprise,” Jean said.
Ray rubbed his face, ruddy from the cold and wind. “Celeste and I figured we ought to come by to wish you a merry Christmas.”
Jean took the turkey and carried it to the sink. “This is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” She ran cold water over the bird and wondered at the change in Ray Townsend. He didn't resemble the man she'd known their first year in Alaska. Had God changed him so much? “You didn't have to do this.”
“We wanted to,” Celeste said, removing her neck scarf. “It was nice of Mr. Woodson to give us the day off,” she told Jean.
“Yes. We've been so busy at the store I was afraid we'd have to work right up to Christmas Eve.”
“Look what I did.” Brian held up a finished cookie. He sniffed the air. “What's that smell?”
“Oh, dear,” Jean said, hurrying to the stove. Using a heavy towel to open the door, she retrieved the burned cookies. “They were so beautiful.” With the dismal tray of cookies in hand, she looked at Brian and Susie. “I'm sorry.”
Susie's lower lip drooped.
“We've got more to bake,” Jean said, setting the cookie sheet on the counter.
“It's OK, Mom,” Brian said, holding up an unbaked Santa. “I like making cookies. We'll make lots more.”
“That's a fine-looking cookie,” Ray said.
Brian proudly set it on the tray.
After sprinkling cookies with sugar, Jean popped a new batch into the oven. She turned to Ray and Celeste. “Can I get you something? Some coffee or tea?”
&n
bsp; “First I've got something to bring in,” Ray said. “It's for you.”
“For me?”
“I'll be right back.” He hurried out the back door.
“What's he up to?” Miram asked, sniffling and dabbing her nose with a handkerchief.
“I guess we're about to find out,” Jean said.
Laurel pinched off a piece of dough and put it in her mouth, then glanced at her stomach. “You wouldn't think I could eat anything,” she said with a wry grin. “The baby's taking up most of the room.”
Celeste grinned. “You look like you're about to burst. How are you feeling?”
“Tired and uncomfortable. I wish it would just hurry and get here. It's been quiet the last couple of days.”
Celeste lifted an eyebrow. “Isn't that a sign that it's getting ready to be born?”
“Maybe it's resting up.”
“As you should be,” Jean said. “You've been on your feet all day. You sit, and I'll finish the rest of these.” She went to the stove and peeked at the batch cooking.
Ray walked in, carrying a rifle. He held out the gun to Jean. “I didn't know how to wrap it. Sorry.”
Jean took the rifle.
“I figured you could use it. Maybe we'll go hunting again.”
Balancing the weapon in her hands, then running her hand over the stock, Jean said, “Ray, I can't accept this. It's much too expensive.”
“It's yours. It has your name on it.”
“My name?”
“I had it engraved on the stock. That way no one will get confused about who's the real hunter in the family.” He grinned.
Jean examined the engraving, ran her fingers over it, then looked at Ray. “Well, I guess it is mine. Thank you.”
Wearing a scowl, Luke stepped into the kitchen from the front room.
“Luke, I was wondering if you and I might play a game of checkers later,” Ray said jovially.
Luke stared at the man, his eyes hard. Finally he said, “Sure. Why not? I don't have nothin' else to do, especially since I'm no good at hunting.”
“Luke, he didn't mean that,” Jean said, but the young man was already walking out.
Ray let out a heavy breath. “I didn't mean he couldn't hunt.” Shaking his head, he added, “Seems I'm always sticking my foot in it.”
