by Ford, Linda
It was fun writing this story and trying to think of creative ways to celebrate Christmas with two children. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
May each of you find God’s love and human connections at Christmas.
I love to hear from readers. Contact me through email at [email protected]. Feel free to check on updates and bits about my research at my website, www.lindaford.org.
God bless,
Linda Ford
Questions for Discussion
What factors have influenced Colt’s view of life? Which ones do you think had the most impact? Is his opinion valid?
How does Becca’s upbringing differ from others, and how has that shaped her view of the world?
How does the arrival of two orphaned children affect change in both Colt and Becca?
Is the portrayal of prejudice realistic for the era? Can Colt and Becca hope to change things? How?
Is Becca’s father prejudiced? Why do you think he acts the way he does?
What character do you most closely identify with? Why, and what does that say about you and the changes you can make in your world?
What challenges do you foresee in the future for this family?
SMOKY MOUNTAIN CHRISTMAS
Karen Kirst
In memory of my dad, Richard Kirst,
who passed away during the writing of this story.
I love you and miss you. Until we meet again.
The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance,
but the Lord looks at the heart.
—1 Samuel 16:7b
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions For Discussion
Excerpt
Chapter One
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
December 1880
This Christmas would be different, Rachel Prescott vowed. No more wallowing in self-pity. No more regrets. Her life may not have turned out as she’d hoped, but she had plenty of reasons to be thankful. It was wrong to want more. Help me, Lord, to be content with the blessings in my life.
Chilled air seeped through the window seams and fanned across her already cold hands. She shifted to bring her face closer to the frost-edged glass. From where the church sat at the end of Main Street, she had a clear view of the storefronts draped with evergreen garlands and vivid red ribbons in anticipation of the holiday. Two youths exited Clawson’s mercantile, dark heads bent over a shared bag of steaming chestnuts. A covered wagon turned onto the hard-packed dirt lane, and the horses’ harness bells jingled a merry tune, temporarily masking the children’s cheerful banter behind her.
Three more weeks. Surely she could survive twenty-one more days of fruitcakes and gingerbread men, hot cocoa and mistletoe and endless holiday cheer. With the annual Christmas Eve presentation to prepare for, the days between now and then would be blessedly hectic. There were props yet to build and paint, costumes to make, weekly practices and, of course, a church to be decorated. That left little time to dwell on the past, on her hasty Christmas wedding that neither she nor her groom had wanted.
Movement near the post office snagged her attention. A man she hadn’t noticed leaning against the building straightened to his full height and seemed to stare directly at her. Rachel’s breath caught. He was too far away for her to make out his features, but his lazy, defiant stance and the way he looped his thumbs in his waistband struck a warning knell in the recesses of her mind.
What if it was him? Alarm surged upward but she stemmed the tide. It wasn’t him. Couldn’t be. There was nothing for him here. The stranger tugged his fawn hat down and, pivoting on his heel, loped off in the opposite direction.
“The troops are getting restless, Rachel.”
With a start of surprise, she whirled to find her friend Megan O’Malley regarding her with a puzzled expression. The rush of her pulse sounded loud in her ears. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The younger woman gestured to the group of twenty children now seated side by side on the wooden pews near the stage. “They’re eager to be measured for their costumes.” Megan hesitated. “Are you well? Your face has lost all color.”
Rachel touched her cheek with ice-cold fingertips. “Have I? I didn’t realize...” Pull yourself together. Do you think he’s the only man to stand just that way? Sucking in a fortifying breath, she started down the aisle. “Well then, we mustn’t keep them waiting.”
The next hour passed in a blur. In their excitement, the children didn’t seem to notice her uncharacteristic silence. She sensed Megan’s concerned glances but didn’t linger to chat after the last child had left. What would she have said, anyway? I think I saw my estranged husband standing on Main Street?
Impatient to reach the safety and solitude of her cozy cabin, her stop at her parents’ home was a brief one. She declined their invitation to supper. Her mother would surely sense her unease, and she wasn’t up to an inquisition. Besides, dusk had fallen, and she didn’t like traveling the mile-long stretch between the two cabins in the dark.
Bundled in her roomy, fur-lined cape dyed the same deep green as the towering pines on either side of the path, she walked as quickly as her burden would allow. Her footsteps quickened when the clearing came into view and, beyond that, the cabin. Her home. The one her husband built for her, not out of a desire to please her, of course, but because it had been his responsibility. His duty.
Not so long ago, she’d actually believed in true love and soul mates and happily ever after. Those dreams died the night she and Cole Prescott were locked inside the storage room at Clawson’s. Of course, they’d had to marry. It was either that or be shunned, subjected to whispers and cold stares. Cole was used to that treatment, but not her. Not the town sweetheart.
Forget the past. What’s done is done. Bemoaning her lot in life wouldn’t change a thing. Besides, she’d made a promise to herself that this year her smile would be real, her enjoyment genuine and not just an act to appease her parents.
Rachel stepped up on the porch. Soon she’d have the fire going and the leftover stew warmed up. Perhaps she’d fix a cup of that peppermint tea she’d splurged on last week and hadn’t had time to sample. Then she would—
“Hello, Rachel.”
Her heart jolted in recognition. The blood drained from her face. Unsteady, she turned to stare at the shadowy figure on her porch. Stars danced in the twilight.
Sixteen long months had passed since she’d last set eyes on him. Handsome in a rebellious sort of way, he looked the same and yet she detected differences. His light brown hair was cut in a more conservative style than before, his firm jaw clean-shaven and his skin tanned a nut brown.
“You’re looking well.” His hazel eyes, at all times guarded as if expecting the worst, studied her with lazy interest.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
Hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, he stepped closer. “We have unfinished business, you and I.” He cocked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s cold. What do you say we continue this conversation inside?”
“I—” Rachel struggled to form words, her mind racing with the implications of his sudden reappearance.
“You don’t have to look so worried, sweet pea, I don’t plan on stickin’ around. If you’ll let me say my piece, I promise to leave you alone. For g
ood, this time.”
What business was he referring to?
The bundle beneath her coat squirmed, and the gravity of her situation robbed her of breath. Did he already know?
The stars in her field of vision multiplied.
So. Her instincts had been dead-on.
Cole Prescott was back in town.
* * *
Cole surged forward to catch Rachel before she hit the floorboards. Her body sagged against his chest, the faint scent of honeysuckle taunting him, awakening sensations he’d long thought dead and buried. Hooking one arm beneath her knees, he hauled her into his arms and grunted at the unexpected weight. Either he’d gone soft, or his wife had gotten heavier since he’d last seen her.
The hood of her cloak fell back, and he allowed himself the luxury of a long, thorough examination. She was lovelier than he remembered. The bold, arched eyebrows framed her expressive blue eyes now closed in unconsciousness, spiky black lashes resting against creamy skin. The small, straight nose and soft, petal-like mouth that could slip into laughter at a moment’s notice. Her lustrous sable hair was tucked into a neat chignon. His gaze traced her hairline, snagging on the widow’s peak she’d despised but he’d secretly found attractive.
Nearly a year and a half had passed since he’d held her close. He hadn’t intended on consummating their forced marriage, hadn’t wanted the emotional entanglement, but he was only a man, after all. He’d held out for seven of the eight months they lived together as husband and wife. Then, in a moment of weakness, everything had changed. Those final weeks were pleasure and pain all rolled into one, and when he’d realized his wife was slowly yet steadily penetrating the walls around his heart, he bolted.
Nudging the door open with the toe of his boot, he carried her inside the dim, cool interior and laid her on the quilt-covered bed. Moving away from her, he tossed kindling into the fireplace and lit it, watching as the flare of light illuminated the one-room cabin. He didn’t stop to check the place for changes. Instead, he returned to his wife’s side.
Despite long, grueling work hours and a mind-numbing whirl of card games, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. The nights were the worst. Memories of his sweet wife struck when he was most vulnerable, asleep and unable to escape, dreams of her haunting him. He hoped that by officially ending the marriage, he’d gain closure and be free of her once and for all.
Her lids fluttered open, flaring wide with apprehension when her gaze focused on him. Anger he’d expected, but fear? What cause had she to fear him?
“The baby—” She scrambled back on the bed and placed a protective hand over her chest. “Who told you?”
Every muscle in Cole’s body tensed. “What baby? Are you pregnant?”
His mind reeled. He’d remained faithful to their vows and had expected no less from her. The news hit hard.
“Where’s the father? Is he someone I know?” He forced himself to remain calm. He was here to dissolve their marriage, so what did it matter if she chose to have another man’s child?
“Get out.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Eyes shimmering with unshed tears, she jammed a finger in the direction of the door. “I don’t know what brought you here, Cole Prescott, and I don’t care. You can turn around and walk right back out that door. How dare you insinuate—”
At that moment a baby’s lustful cry burst forth from beneath her green cloak. Ignoring him, Rachel unhooked the clasps and shrugged out of the sleeves. There, tucked snuggly against her chest in a homemade wrap, was a baby girl. At least, he thought it was a girl. Her brown corduroy gown was trimmed in pink and yellow roses. Whispering softly to soothe the infant’s whimpers of protest, she loosened the material and, freeing her, hugged her close. Seeing his wife like that did odd things to his insides.
A horrible notion struck him. “How old is she, Rachel?”
“Six months.”
He started counting backward. Was it possible?
Lifting her head, she speared him with a glance. “Her name is Abigail Rose, Abby for short, and she is your daughter, Cole. If you don’t believe me, ask my parents. Or Doc Owens.”
He’d never known Rachel to lie. The truth was there in her face along with a dozen conflicting emotions. His knees refused to support his weight. Sinking into the rocking chair beside the bed, he tried to process the news. He had a daughter?
The realization of all he’d missed made his chest seize up. His hands fisted. “You had my address. Why didn’t you contact me? You know I wouldn’t have stayed away.”
Rachel closed her eyes against the anguish radiating from him. He didn’t deserve her compassion. He chose to leave. To abandon her and, in doing so, thrust her in the midst of an even greater scandal than their hasty wedding had spawned.
“I don’t have your address. Never have.”
“As soon as I got settled, I sent you a letter with my information in case you needed me. You’re saying you never received it?”
In case you needed me... The words chafed. What good was her husband when he was miles away? Perhaps even states away? She had no idea where he’d been, and she wasn’t planning on asking.
“That’s right.”
Shoving to his feet, his rigid stance radiated his displeasure. His nostrils flared. “Didn’t you think this kind of news warranted some action on your part? A man has a right to know he’s fathered a child. You could’ve hired a private eye.”
Abby squirmed against her, and Rachel patted her back in an effort to soothe the both of them. Resentment and hurt warred in her chest. “And you could’ve stuck around.”
His jaw hardened to carved marble. “Rachel, I—”
“Don’t bother with excuses, Cole. Just tell me why you’re here.”
“I came to apologize and...to grant you your freedom.”
The cabin walls seemed to close in on her. Cole wanted a divorce? It was one thing for him to walk away. Quite another for him to seek her out for the sole purpose of severing their union. She felt inexplicably ill. Shouldn’t she feel elated? He’d be out of her life for good. Problems solved.
“Of course, that’s no longer an option.” His level gaze dared her to refute him. “Now that I know about the baby, I’m not going anywhere. It appears you’re stuck with me.”
Chapter Two
Rachel’s throat constricted as her hard-won peace slipped through her fingertips like riverbed silt. Cole’s presence would change everything. Her quiet, ordinary life would be reduced to a fond memory. Once again, she’d be the center of gossip, a specimen under a magnifying glass whose every move would be dissected and examined. He’d subjected her to this nightmare twice before. Not again.
Hugging Abby close, she edged off the bed and backed away. “No. You can’t stay.” She struggled to keep the panic from showing. “Haven’t you put me through enough? First you marry me because of a cruel prank, and then you disappear. No explanation, no apology. Do you realize the humiliation I’ve suffered because of you?”
Emotion flickered deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. If I could go back to that night at Clawson’s and change things, I would. I should’ve sensed something was off, but my attention was all on you....” He trailed off, his lips compressing as if to stop the flow of words.
She recalled that Christmas Eve, the flare of excitement his arrival at the mercantile had spurred within her. Cole had been darkly handsome, lanky yet strong, the dancing light in his eyes a heady invitation for a girl who’d always followed the rules. The owner’s nephew, Gregory Moore, and another boy had lured them there separately with the promise to show them a shipment of goods from the Orient. It had been a ruse of course. A trick to get them there together. When the boys had slipped out, shut and locked the door, their raucous laughter fading as they left, it
hadn’t immediately registered what lay ahead. Reality soon set in. The mercantile was closed. No one would hear their yells for help. They were stuck. Overnight. Alone together. There had been no other option but to marry.
The uncertainty, sorrow and regret of those early days rushed back to choke her. Cole had accepted his responsibility with dignified resignation. He’d expressed no complaints, no pleas for leniency. And yet, he must’ve found life with her intolerable. What was it, she often wondered while alone in her bed at night, that made her company so undesirable?
“The minute people discover you’re back in town, the gossip will start. Then the snide comments and fake concern for my welfare, when what they really want is to glean every detail of my life so they can hash it out behind my back.” A private person, Rachel loathed feeling as if she were under constant scrutiny. “Surely you don’t want to face it all again. If you thought people in this town disliked you before, imagine how they feel now that you’ve walked out on your wife.”
He looped his thumbs in his waistband and shrugged. “I can handle it.”
“You’re prepared for the comparisons to your father?”
He exhaled sharply. “That’s exactly why I have to stay,” he ground out. “When my pa skipped town, I promised myself that I’d never inflict that same pain on any child of mine.”
And what of my feelings? Hadn’t it occurred to him that his leaving would hurt her? While she hadn’t been foolish enough to believe herself in love with her husband, she’d begun to care for him. How could she not, considering the intimacies they had shared? They had created a child together.
Abby was growing restless in her arms, her fingers grasping at Rachel’s bodice. She would want to nurse soon. Smoothing the infant’s dark curls, she swayed slowly back and forth.
