Christina. Christina, I will make you a gift.
All at once he heard an uneven footstep across the street and his eyelids snapped open. Christina! And she was coming straight toward him. Slowly he straightened and stood up.
“Anna not here,” he said. “She is at church.”
Christina smiled at him. “Good for her,” she said with a laugh. “But it is you I have come to see.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.” She moved a step closer, and his pulse picked up. “Ivan, I have something to tell you. Something important.”
“I have something to tell you, too. Come, sit here beside me.” He took her hand and pulled her down next to him on the top porch step.
She settled her blue skirt around her, carefully tucking her petticoat ruffle out of sight. “I have learned something,” she announced. “Something wonderful.”
He waited, scarcely daring to breathe.
“Ivan,” she said with a sigh. She leaned toward him and he wrapped his arm about her shoulders.
“Yes?” he prompted, scarcely able to breathe. “What you have learned?”
“That I love you.”
“You say that before, Christina. And you know how I feel. What I want.”
“There is more,” she said, her voice quiet.
He looked sharply at her. “What more, Christina? Say it.”
“Ivan...” She hesitated. “Ivan, I love you. More than I love teaching. I have decided that I will give up teaching.”
“What?” He could not believe what he was hearing. “Why you would do this?”
“Because...well, because I want to marry you. I want to marry you more than I want to teach school.”
He stared at her, and then he began to laugh. “That is what I wanted to tell you, Christina. You can marry me and teach school, too.”
Her blue eyes clouded. “But I can’t, not in Oregon.”
“But yes, you can! Peter Jensen came to see me this morning. You remember Peter Jensen? Is Roxanna’s father. And also he is president of school board.”
Christina stared at him. “Yes, I know, but—”
“Peter Jensen does me a service. He says it is all right if you marry me. You can marry me and you can teach school. He says you will be only married schoolteacher in all of Oregon!”
“But—”
He kissed her. And when she kissed him back, he kissed her again. “There are no buts, Christina. Just answer me yes.”
Her beautiful eyes filled with tears and spilled down her cheeks. Ivan swiped them away with his thumb. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Yes,” she said, weeping. “I do want to marry you. But...”
“I say no buts, remember? Just yes.”
“Oh, Ivan, I scarcely know what to think!”
He cupped his hands around her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Not true, Christina. You do know what to think. Must think of now, and next year, and years to come.”
She bit her lip and smiled, then wound her arms around his neck and laid her tear-sheened cheek against his face. “Ivan,” she breathed. “Ivan, you are the smartest man I have ever known.”
* * *
Annamarie returned from church an hour later. “Married?” she screamed. “Married? Really and truly married?”
“Yes, really and truly married,” Ivan and Christina said together.
“Oh, Miss Marnell, let me be your maid of honor? Please? Please, please, please?”
Epilogue
Christina Marnell and Ivan Panovsky were married on Christmas Day in Iris and Uncle Charlie Ming’s front parlor, decorated for the occasion with red ribbons and evergreen boughs. Christina wore a pale pink silk gown with a double ruffle at the hem and carried a bouquet of red poinsettias.
Annamarie, in her first long dress of soft blue wool challis, stood up with Christina, and Peter Jensen stood up with Ivan. Roxanna Jensen scattered a basket of dried rose petals in Christina’s path.
After they exchanged vows, Iris and Uncle Charlie served a four-tier chocolate wedding cake topped with roses fashioned of white icing. The gathered townspeople drank toasts of champagne and hard apple cider, and Noralee Ness, the mercantile owner’s daughter, caught Christina’s tossed bouquet.
Following the reception, Christina and Ivan were serenaded by her students, who lined up on the wide front porch and sang “Comin’ Through the Rye” in three-part harmony.
* * * * *
A Kiss from
the Cowboy
Carol Arens
Dedicated to the house at 22631 Kittridge Street. And the love that happened within your walls for sixty years.
Dear Reader,
You might find it odd that I dedicated this story to a house. But 22631 was more than four walls. To five generations it was sanctuary...a place to celebrate every holiday.
It was the place my parents welcomed us home to. Especially at Christmas. Coming in its front door, we were surrounded by the scents of roasting turkey, green beans simmering in the pot and the Christmas tree. Once inside we were wrapped up in loving arms. On Christmas Eve there were photos taken of children in front of the tree, dressed in new pajamas and eager for Santa to come. Thirty-one stockings were hung by the chimney with care. In the morning there was the magic of a pile of gifts that filled the living room, four feet high.
This will be the first year we will not celebrate Christmas there. Our home has gone on to bless another family. But we will take many things with us—toasts with eggnog, Christmas music on the stereo and love...lots and lots of love.
So, my friend, three cheers to home, whether it has sheltered you for six days or sixty years. I wish you the blessings of it.
Very best wishes and Merry Christmas,
Carol
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
December 1885, Sweet Bank, Texas
Cousin Edwina was coming to visit.
Livy York led Old Blue from the shelter of the barn and into the biting wind. Old Blue was no more blue in color than the sun shining down was warm. He might have been considered bluish in his youth, but when Livy had purchased him last week he was already gray with middle age.
Still, he was sturdy enough and she could afford him. Next week she hoped to purchase a cow or a goat.
Because Edwina was coming.
She crossed the yard, tethered the horse to a post in front of the modest ranch house then dashed up the front steps. Paint from the banister flaked off onto her gloves.
It was only a bit warmer inside since she had banked the fire an hour ago in anticipation of going to town.
“Let’s go, Sam,” she called to her four-year-old brother.
A lump under a blanket on the couch heaved. Sam’s head popped out of the covers. His light brown hair stuck up at odd angles.
“What does four plus six make, Livy?”
“Ten—the number of seconds I have to put your hair in order. Hurry now, we don’t want to miss the Christmas-tree raising in town.”
“I want to miss it.” Sam tossed off the blanket, already wearing his heavy coat.
He didn’t really want to miss the ceremony, she knew. He’d been talking of little else since the tree had been delivered to the livery four days ago.
What he did miss was Ma and Pa. So did she. This would be the first year he had celebrated Christmas without them.
“You know,
Sam, Ma and Pa want you to have fun.”
“Can they see me from heaven?”
“Of course, and they love you just the same from heaven as they did when they lived here. I’m sure they will be at the tree raising right alongside of us. We’ll just see them with our hearts instead our eyes.”
“Reckon I wouldn’t want’a make them sad by acting like a baby.”
Sam raced for the door, his grin wide. It had been nearly a year since Ma and Pa passed of fever. It was good to see her brother smiling. She believed he was finally healing—in as much as that kind of healing could be done.
Livy still cried at odd moments; she suspected she always would. Sometimes for joy, when a scent or a sound would bring back the wonderful years they had shared as a complete family. Sometimes it was for just plain missing Ma and Pa.
But Christmas was almost here and she would make sure her brother found all the happiness the season could give him.
If only Edwina was not coming to spend a week with them after the New Year.
Life would be a good deal less complicated if she stayed in her well-appointed home in her upper-crust neighborhood of Kendrick.
Her cousin had never felt the need to come and visit while Ma and Pa were alive. There was only one reason that Livy could think of why she would do it now. That one reason made her stomach turn.
Following Sam outside, she lifted him onto the saddle then climbed up behind him, pulling him close against the cold.
“You got the St. Nicholas Magazine, Livy?”
“Right here in my coat pocket.”
After the raising of the tree, everyone was going to Ida’s Sweet Shop for hot chocolate and cookies. As she had done every year since she was sixteen, Livy would read the children a Christmas story from the magazine. The tradition was a fine way to begin the holiday festivities.
She only wished she had been allowed to spend every Christmas at home in Sweet Bank. This small town was full of friendly people who had doted upon her all her life.
But Ma had wanted her to spend the holidays with her rich relatives in Kendrick. At twelve years old she had been put on a train and sent off to be her aunt and uncle’s act of Christmas charity.
Oh, she had been indulged, given a new party dress and a gift or two—but even gussied to the gills, Livy knew she had never measured up. Sometimes she would say something that smacked of small town and her aunt and uncle would look embarrassed. Livy would run from the room, her cheeks flaming with shame.
As hard as she’d tried not to seem the country bumpkin, all she’d ever accomplished was to become homesick.
When she turned sixteen, she refused to make the trip.
Ma hadn’t been happy about it.
Her mother’s wish had been for her daughter to have the financial and social advantages she had grown up with. As much as Ma loved Pa, she had turned her back on her family to marry a lowly rancher.
One time, Ma had told her in a whisper of the prominent politician she had been engaged to. It was clear that she loved Pa and was not unhappy with her life, but she had blinked away a tear that night. Livy was never sure if it had been because of the estrangement from her parents or from the politician.
In the end, and Livy was not sure why, Ma made up a lie about why her daughter could no longer come for Christmas. She wrote a letter to her sister explaining that Livy was spending time with a very prosperous, quite influential beau and was blissfully happy so she could not possibly come for a visit this year.
The truth was, the purchase of her train ticket would have come at a dear cost. Livy reckoned her parents would have gone hungry while she feasted. And the prosperous, influential beau? Well, she’d indulged in a kiss with Frank Gordon, the banker’s son, one day behind the schoolhouse then run for home, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. But once the blush wore off, she’d let him kiss her again. The truth was, she’d grown starry-eyed over him.
On the day he ran off to join a traveling troupe of actors, she was waiting under a walnut tree with her lips puckered. Indeed, she had waited for him for three long hours.
The bruise to her heart, or maybe just her pride, had taken some time to heal.
“Look, Livy!” Her brother tried to climb to his knees in front of her as they rode into town. “They’re bringing the tree out of the livery!”
“Ouch! Sam, get your knee out of my ribs and sit back down.”
It was a lucky thing the ride from town took only half an hour. Her brother was like a wriggly worm, incapable of sitting still.
Also, the temperature was falling. She would be glad to get inside the bakery, where there was always a welcoming fire.
After delivering Old Blue to the care of Hank, the liveryman, Livy took Sam’s hand and led him toward the town square and the gathering crowd.
“I want’a walk by myself!” Sam declared, wrenching free of her grip. “I’m big now.”
Four and a half years old wasn’t all that big, but he was fully capable of walking safely beside her. It was just that she liked the feel of his small hand in hers.
Sam had been born into the family after her parents had given up hope of having another child. What a blessing that squalling, lusty newborn had been to all of them. His birth had eased the grief of many miscarriages.
From the first time Livy held him, she’d felt as much his mother as his sister. She doubted that there had been a moment in his first nine months when he hadn’t been held and coddled by Livy or Ma.
Passing the door of the train depot, she was nearly knocked flat by Mildred Banks rushing out the door. Mildred worked the depot counter as well as running a boardinghouse.
“Oh, Livy!” Mildred gripped her shoulders, steadying her. “I was in such a hurry to see the tree I didn’t pay a bit of attention to what I was doing. I do so love the Christmas tree!”
Mildred hurried a few steps ahead then swung about. “Oh, and that man you hired isn’t here yet. The train is running late.” She rushed away but turned yet again. “I’ve set out some dirty laundry behind the boardinghouse for you. And there’s some fancy-like curtains for you to borrow for your cousin’s visit, if they are to your liking.”
“Thank you!” Livy rushed after Sam, who had outpaced Mildred.
It would be a relief when the ranch hand she had hired got here. She needed his well-touted skills desperately. She had found him through an advertisement in the Texas News and Review. From the brief correspondence they had exchanged it seemed like he would suit her needs well.
She probably should not have led the man to believe that this was a lasting position, but she’d feared he would not come all this way for a two-week job. She only hoped that when he discovered the truth, he would not quit on the spot.
Of course, had it not been for pride, she would not need his services at all. Well, she would. The ranch had become run-down after Pa passed to his glory, but she just would not need him so urgently.
Several years ago, with all the maturity of a five-year-old, Livy had followed her mother’s example and written regular letters to Edwina. Because she had begun them, and could not suddenly stop, she’d kept up the silly letters over the years, and they’d turned into stories about her grand life, how prosperous the ranch was and how she was the belle of Sweet Bank. How she had become engaged to the banker’s son.
It was unlikely that her cousin actually believed those lies, although she had never hinted that she did not, but—
But Edwina was coming to visit soon and Livy would rather bathe in a public horse trough than let her cousin see the reality of her humble life. Edwina had fine manners and exquisite clothing. Women like Livy washed those expensive clothes.
Vanity was a part of the reason she had hired Mr. James—she could not deny the sad fact. But it was not the whole reason—not the most important one.
Her mother’s family loved to appear charitable, especially when it came to their poorer relatives. What Livy feared the most was that Edwina would come, see Sam’s humble life and want to take him with her—insist upon raising him with her own four-year-old son.
Livy’s fear of being separated from her brother might be overblown, but wealth had a way of speaking very loudly.
In Livy’s opinion, it did not matter how much money her Hall relatives lavished upon Sam, they could never love him like she did.
Everyone knew that love was the most important thing of all.
* * *
The train was still an hour outside of Sweet Bank when Kit James closed The Common Man’s Guide to Ranching.
The sudden snap of the pages woke his small niece, Emmie, who snuggled against his ribs for warmth.
“Where’s Papa?” she murmured, blinking and glancing around. All of a sudden her green eyes, an exact match to Kit’s brother’s, misted over. “In Kevin?”
“Heaven, honey. But I’m here.”
It was a good thing she never asked about her mother because he didn’t know how to answer that question. But she would ask one day and his heart would break.
Three years and six days ago, Emmie had been born to a prostitute. Three years and one day ago the woman had sent the baby across town to Kit’s brother, insisting he was the father, which by looking at her, he clearly was. Three years ago the woman had left town, never to be heard from again.
Kit didn’t even know her real name. He highly doubted it was actually Midnight Lillie.
His brother, Wilson, had done his best to care for his infant girl, but he wasn’t the most prudent of men. All Kit’s life he had been cleaning up after his older brother’s mistakes in judgment.
Although, one could hardly consider Emmie James a mistake. She was an adorable, curly-haired treasure and the best thing that had ever happened to Wilson—or to Kit.
She had come as a surprise, but one he would never regret.
Western Christmas Brides Page 19
