Mistletoe Mommy

by Danica Favorite

  With a sigh, Nellie shook her head. The stove was barely large enough to hold wood for a fire and a kettle on top. She had no idea how she’d make a basic meal on it, let alone a chocolate cake.

  “That’s right. You’re not. Diana was no housekeeper, and she couldn’t cook a proper meal to save her life, let alone feed her family. When they first came to Leadville, she and I made a deal. I did all the cooking, and she did all my mending and sewing. I never could sew a straight seam, so it was a good trade for me. I tried explaining to Luke what we’d worked out, but he thought that taking meals from me was accepting charity.”

  Myrna let out a long sigh. “I don’t think he ever knew just how poor a cook Diana was. He knew she wasn’t much for housekeeping, but I don’t think any of us had the heart to tell him the truth about—”

  The door opened, and Luke entered, a sulking Ruby trudging behind him.

  “Tell him the truth about what?” he asked, looking confused.

  If no one else could bear telling him that his wife couldn’t cook, Nellie sure wasn’t going to. She smiled at him. “About how difficult it must have been for Diana to cook on your tiny little stove. But just as she managed, so will I.”

  Nellie gave him a bright smile as she winked at Myrna. They would have to come to some sort of agreement, because Myrna was right. Cooking on this stove, meant as a heating unit, would be near impossible.

  If one could look at a woodstove with fondness and love, that was exactly what Luke appeared to do. “The gentleman at the mercantile did say it was impractical, but Diana thought it the sweetest little thing, and she had to have it, so who was I to refuse?”

  Then he sobered and turned his attention back to Nellie. “But if this won’t suit you, I could see what they’d take for it in trade, and what a different stove would cost. I don’t have a lot saved up, but...”

  A frown creased Luke’s forehead.

  “It’s all right.” Nellie smiled at him. “As I said, I’ll manage. You weren’t supposed to hear that bit about the stove. It wasn’t meant as an insult. Just an observation among women who are accustomed to doing a lot of cooking.”

  Though Myrna let out an audible sigh of relief, Ruby glared at Nellie. Did the girl, who’d taken on her mother’s duties, know about her deal with Myrna? Or did Ruby see this as yet another slight against her departed mother?

  Luke nodded slowly. “If you say so. Like I said, I know it’s a hard life. But I do try to make it easier where I can.”

  He looked around the small room as if observing it through a stranger’s eyes. “I didn’t exaggerate when I said it wasn’t much.”

  Ruby’s glare intensified.

  “But it’s enough,” Nellie said smoothly, smiling as she turned her gaze around the room. “Your family has been very happy here, and I have no doubt that we all will continue to be.”

  Luke looked up toward the loft. “The others up there?”

  Nellie nodded.

  “Have you been up yet?”

  “No. Myrna had just begun explaining things to me, and we haven’t gotten that far.”

  Her answer didn’t seem to please Luke, who only looked more uncomfortable at her words. “Seeing you in here, I hadn’t realized...” He shook his head. “It really is a small space, isn’t it?”

  “We’ll manage,” Nellie said, reiterating her earlier words.

  Luke glanced down at her bags. “There’s no place for your things, no privacy for you.”

  “I guess she’ll have to leave, then,” Ruby said, the scowl disappearing from her face for the first time since entering the house.

  “I’m not leaving,” Nellie said, just as Luke said, “She’s not leaving.”

  A small smile turned the corners of Luke’s lips as he looked at Nellie. “At least we still agree on that. But still, I’ve given no thought to your comfort, and for that I apologize.”

  “My mother never needed anything more,” Ruby snapped, the glare returning to her face.

  “Remember your promise,” Luke said quietly, looking at his daughter with an expression that spoke of both rebuke and affection at the same time.

  Nellie felt her shoulders relax as she examined Luke for any sign of violence. There was none. Just that pervasive sadness that seemed to surround him whenever Diana came up in conversation.

  “Well,” Myrna said, stepping in to the conversation. “As Nellie and I were discussing just prior to your arrival, I have supper ready for you at my house, and if we don’t sit down soon, it’s liable to get cold. So let’s all head across the alley and we’ll get some food in us all.”

  Nellie was grateful for the sudden ease of tension in the room. Whatever Ruby had promised Luke, she wouldn’t have to deliver right away. And the cloud had lifted from Luke’s shoulders, a smile filling his face again.

  “That sounds wonderful. Thank you for thinking of my wife and realizing that it would be too much to ask of her to prepare supper so soon after her arrival. I’m sure it will make her feel most welcome.”

  “It does indeed,” Nellie said, smiling back at him. Though their words were all polite and proper, things felt strained between them, as if the reality of their arrangement was somehow less satisfactory than it had sounded when they’d first discussed it. Luke continued to seem more ill at ease than happy about her acceptance of the situation.

  “I’ll just get the children,” Nellie said, heading for the ladder. “And have a peek at the loft so I can say I’ve seen it all. I’m sure it will be just fine.”

  She could feel Luke’s eyes on her as she climbed the ladder. Though it had to be sturdy enough to hold Luke’s weight, the way it creaked as she made her way up made her stomach churn. She would get used to this.

  The tiny loft was lit by a small window in the eaves, and the space was nothing but wall-to-wall bedding. Which, based on the smell assaulting Nellie’s nostrils, hadn’t been washed in some time.

  Amos looked up from a picture book he’d been showing Maeve. “Is it time for supper?”

  When she nodded, he shoved the book under one of the blankets. “I thought I heard you all talking about it being ready. Maevey is almost asleep.” Amos nudged his sister, who yawned. “She’s not supposed to be up here alone, but I knew she was tired, so I came up to watch her.” Then he grinned. “See? I can be a good helper.”

  “You certainly can.” Nellie couldn’t help but like the little boy, who seemed so different from his older sister.

  “Does that mean there will be chocolate cake tonight?”

  Nellie fought back a laugh. Of course it was about the chocolate cake. She should have known that a little boy’s heart was closely tied to his stomach.

  “I don’t know. Mrs. Fitzgerald is taking care of supper tonight.”

  “I’ll find out.”

  Before Nellie could answer, Amos had sped past her and down the creaking ladder. Maeve let out the soft sigh of a child who’d just lost her battle with sleep. The little girl’s lashes were like soot against her porcelain skin. So precious. Nellie brushed Maeve’s cheek with the back of her hand. This was such a gift she hadn’t been expecting—to have a family of her own to care for.

  As Nellie looked out the window to see a few stray snowflakes falling, she realized with a pang that it was nearing Christmas. Why she thought of it now, she didn’t know. She’d been pushing aside thoughts of the holiday, one she’d never be able to spend with her sister and her sister’s family, for some time now. Ernest had thought it a silly holiday, the merriment ridiculous. She’d hoped that maybe someday, she and her sister...

  Nellie shook her head. It didn’t matter. She’d given up hope of a future Christmas with Mabel in the interest of keeping her sister safe. Looking down at the sleeping child, Nellie wondered how the Jeffries family celebrated Christmas. She and Luke hadn’t spoken
of it, but it seemed like there were more and more things they hadn’t thought to discuss prior to her coming. Had she made a mistake in jumping into this too soon?

  Nellie bent over the sleeping child and began shifting her into her arms. As she did so, she noticed a tattered piece of paper that looked as though it had been torn from a magazine tucked at the edge of the little girl’s pillow. It was an advertisement for Christmas toys for children. The well-worn paper had clearly been looked over many times. Christmas was only a month away, and clearly the children had the holiday on their minds.

  Nellie replaced the paper where she’d found it. She’d speak to Luke about it later.

  Regathering Maeve into her arms, Nellie scooted across the floor to the loft opening. How was she supposed to safely carry the little girl down the rickety ladder?

  She peered out through the hole. “Luke?”

  Luke appeared at the foot of the ladder. “Is everything all right?”

  “Maeve is asleep, and I don’t wish to disturb her, but I’m not sure how to safely climb down with her in my arms.”

  “Hand her to me. I’ve done this dozens of times.” Balancing on the ladder, Luke held his arms out so Nellie could give him the sleeping child.

  Fortunately, at two, Maeve wasn’t very heavy, so the weight transfer was easy for both Nellie and Luke. She watched as Luke cradled his daughter against him while he made his way down the ladder.

  Nellie waited for Luke to fully finish climbing down before making her attempt. She shuddered as she looked through the hole to the floor below.

  “Are you all right?” Luke called up to her.

  “Fine.”

  Slowly, she turned around to begin her descent, trying to ignore the way the ladder creaked against her weight. Luke had just done it with a child in his arms; surely Nellie would be fine. It seemed like it took hours for her to finally reach firm ground, and when she did, her whole body was shaking.

  “You don’t like heights much, do you?” Luke asked quietly.

  Nellie shook her head as gently as she could with the room still spinning.

  “We’ll think of something, then,” he told her, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

  His touch felt comforting, and Nellie wished she could also find comfort in his words. But his tone spoke of so much disappointment that she wondered if he, too, was already wondering if he’d made the right decision in bringing her here.

  * * *

  How had he thought that someone else could be happy in his home? Luke fought discouragement the next morning as he chopped wood behind their house. It had been enough for Diana, their cramped quarters and tiny stove. But as he’d watched Nellie and Myrna discuss the living arrangements, he realized what a poor offering their place was for any woman. He supposed, because he and Diana shared so much love between them, the material things hadn’t mattered.

  But as he stared at the bare frame that was to have been an extra room added on to their house, a room he’d given up on when Diana died, he wondered if maybe he’d just been lying to himself about that fact, too. Though Diana wasn’t afraid of heights the way Nellie appeared to be, she hadn’t liked the loft any better. She’d even stayed at the Fitzgeralds’ when her time came to birth Maeve because it was easier to have more conveniences available should something go wrong.

  He’d buried Diana with a clear conscience, knowing that his wife had been happy in their humble life. But had she really?

  She’d nagged him and nagged him about finishing the new room. But he’d always had other things to do, mostly things Diana had wanted him to do, so they seemed just as important.

  The wind blew a newspaper in his direction. The air was cold, and judging from the heavy clouds on the mountains, a storm was on its way. He’d best have more wood ready for the weather.

  He reached for the paper. Someone else’s trash could be useful in their home. But he couldn’t resist giving it a quick scan. An advertisement for new woodstoves dominated the front page: Pretty Stoves for Your Parlor. The quaint phrase made him chuckle, except as he looked at the pictures, he could understand the discussion Myrna and Nellie were trying to have without offending him. He’d purchased one of those pretty little parlor stoves—great for heating and conversation, not so great for cooking. A woman who liked to cook needed one of the fancy cooking stoves pictured on the next page.

  Luke sighed as he folded the paper and set it under one of the pieces of wood. He wasn’t stupid. He’d known that Diana couldn’t possibly have done all the cooking she’d claimed to have done. But as he’d overheard the women whispering in the kitchen, he had to wonder if Diana had done any cooking at all.

  Of course she had. How many times did he wake in the morning to his beautiful wife standing beside that tiny stove, frying eggs? Every single day. But the top of the stove was only big enough for a single pan. Where had the biscuits and bacon come from?

  Luke picked up the ax and swung it above his head. It wasn’t his concern anymore. Diana was dead, and there was no sense in resurrecting things best left alone.

  Still, as he continued to chop wood and stare at the shell of the room he’d promised her, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that he didn’t do enough for the woman whom he loved. How was he supposed to make a woman who didn’t love him happy enough to stay?

  The back door opened, and Nellie peered out. “Breakfast is ready.”

  Luke put the ax down and grabbed a stack of wood. “Thought I’d replenish your woodpile before heading off to work.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it,” Nellie said, her voice formal, polite. He couldn’t fault her in her speech, but it seemed like she held him at a distance.

  When he entered the house, he saw that the table was set and the room already tidied. They’d made a makeshift bed for Nellie on the floor of the main room, and he could see no sign of it now.

  What kind of life had he given her? She hadn’t signed up to sleep on the floor every night.

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting you a proper bed,” Luke said again. He’d said the same last night, the same when they’d risen, and here he was, once again apologizing for not having thought of her comfort as he should have.

  She gave a small smile as she shook her head. “I told you. I’ve been in far worse accommodations, and to be honest, your floor was far more comfortable than that hotel we stayed at the night before.”

  “I thought you said you slept fine at the hotel.”

  Nellie let out a long sigh. “I did, but I found the bed lumpy, so it was nice to have the firmness of the floor last night.”

  Though Luke nodded, it bothered him that she was so concerned about preserving his feelings that she couldn’t be truthful. She could have just told him that she’d found the hotel bed lumpy when he’d asked the first time.

  How were they supposed to make a life together when they couldn’t be honest with one another?

  As the family gathered around the table, Luke noticed the children were all dressed, washed, and had their hair combed. None of the women he’d hired to care for the children ever managed to accomplish so much in so little time.

  “What is this?” Ruby asked, her voice full of irritation as she poked at the steaming bowls Nellie placed in front of them.

  “Porridge,” Nellie said brightly as she sat in her place. “Amos tells me he’s tired of eggs, and when I was going through the supplies, I noticed you had a whole tin of it. It was my favorite breakfast growing up, so I thought you’d all appreciate the change.”

  Ruby scowled and pushed the bowl away. “We hate porridge.”

  With a look at Ruby meant to remind her about their promise, Luke picked up his spoon. “We haven’t had porridge in a long time, so perhaps you’ll find that you like it after all.”

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald
makes us eat it at her house all the time,” Ruby said, glaring at him.

  Even if it was the most horrible thing he’d ever tasted, he would pretend to enjoy it. He sighed. So much for wanting to be more open with his new wife.

  Only...he let the porridge roll around in his mouth.

  “This is delicious,” Luke said, turning toward Nellie.

  “Thank you. I found a bit of cinnamon in with the spices, so I added it and just a small amount of sugar. I hope you don’t mind, since we’re low on sugar. We still haven’t discussed the household budget for food and such.”

  Nellie turned to help Maeve eat her porridge. Something in Luke twisted in a funny way at the simple gesture of watching her feed his daughter. Of caring for a child, living in a situation that couldn’t have been what Nellie expected and then having to ask for food money in such a calm way.

  He was doing a poor job of being a husband to this woman.

  Looking up, Luke realized Ruby was staring at him, her bowl of porridge still untouched, her expression defiant. But she also seemed to be waiting for Luke’s response to his wife’s query.

  He’d given his child too much authority in their home for too long.

  “Eat your breakfast, Ruby,” he said, giving his daughter another stern look to remind her that she was supposed to be making Nellie feel welcome.

  Amos was nearly finished with his, and Luke felt slightly better knowing that not all of his children were taking this change so hard.

  “I don’t like porridge,” Ruby repeated.

  “Then you’ll go without,” Luke told her. He turned his attention to Nellie. “I hope you’ll support me in this decision, so please do not give her something else to eat.”

  “Of course.” Nellie inclined her head slightly, then focused her attention back on Maeve, who seemed to be enjoying her meal as much as Amos.

  The exchange felt as stiff as it had been with the various women he’d hired to care for the children. He didn’t mean to treat Nellie as hired help, yet so far, there was none of the easy banter that had happened between them the first day they’d met.