She tossed a misplaced pillow onto the sofa and found a forgotten sock underneath. Straightening a tintype of Caleb on the mantel made her think of Dwight and how he’d been cleared of any suspicion of being in league with the rustlers. Last month he’d left for New Meringue, where he planned to open a saloon.
“It’s beautiful,” her mother said, coming into the room. She glided over and slid her arm around Hannah’s waist. They stood in silence for a few moments looking at the tree.
“Everything is ready, and the table is set. It’s going to be a lovely Christmas Eve,” Roberta said softly.
Hannah nodded and smiled. She didn’t want to put a damper on the party. The months since Thom’s operation had drawn by slowly. She wanted him back.
“Susanna is bringing the plum pudding,” Hannah replied. Her mother already knew that, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.
Roberta touched her head to Hannah’s. “Stop worrying so much,” she whispered. “He’s getting stronger all the time.” She gave a sad little chuckle. “More often than not, he resists my efforts. You know, those arm and leg stretches Dr. Thorn insisted were to be done twice a day.” She gently took Hannah’s chin, making her daughter look at her. “I always said he was a fighter, and it’s true. He’s fighting back now—and that’s good.”
Laughter and a loud knock on the door drew them apart.
“Markus,” Hannah called. “Company’s here!” Rapid-fire boot heels descended the stairs, echoing through the room.
Hannah looked at her mother. “Still running.”
Roberta responded, with a melancholy smile, “I’m just glad he’s able to.”
Two hours later, with a delicious dinner finished and the tree almost decorated, Hannah tousled Markus’s hair. “It’s lovely, son. Should Uncle Frank help you set the star?”
Before the child answered, another knock rattled the front door.
“I wonder who that could be,” Frank said, striding to the entry. He opened to a bluster of wind and snowflakes. A group stood outside, wrapped in big coats, scarves, and hats. Hannah, and the rest, gathered around the door.
“It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold…”
Hannah couldn’t sing. Her heart shuddered with sadness and felt as if it would shatter into a million pieces. All her friends were here. The Logans and Gabe. Brenna and her brood. Win. Nell and her brother, Seth. Reverend Wilbrand. Dr. Thorn. Even Violet and Maude seemed to have made peace, at least for tonight. Lorna Brinkley and her husband waved from the side, a beautiful skirt made from expensive fabric hanging below her coat. A couple stood far in the back, and Hannah had to strain to see Jake with his arm around Daisy.
Hannah willed a smile onto her face and happiness into her heart. These were wonderful friends. Good people. Oh, how she wished she felt their joy.
The song ended. Markus ran out and took Sarah’s hand, pulling her into the room.
Roberta clapped her hands. “My brilliant grandson, that’s a wonderful idea. Please, everyone come in and get warm. We have hot apple cider and lots of dessert!”
“We can’t,” Maude called out. “We have several more houses to visit. But thank you all—”
“Do you have time for one more carol?” Hannah asked, finding her voice around her sorrow.
“Of course!” Win’s smile lit up the night.
She opened the door wider. “In here. Upstairs for Thom.”
Everyone looked around. “We’re pretty wet, Hannah,” Dr. Thorn said.
“We don’t mind, do we, Mother?”
Roberta hurried to take Win’s arm. “Of course not. Please come in.”
Jessie came in first. “That’s a fine idea. Everyone be sure to wipe on the rug as you enter.”
It took a few minutes for the group to crowd into Thom’s bedroom and circle his bed. Ivan got up from where he slept and moved closer to the bed. Markus squirmed in close and took Thom’s hand into his small one and stroked it, as he did often.
“What shall we sing fer our sweet Thom?” Violet’s voice faltered. Her loving gaze almost did Hannah in.
Hannah thought a moment. “I think he’d like ‘Silent Night.’”
Reverend Wilbrand hummed one long note so everyone could hear. The group started very softly at first. Again, it was impossible for Hannah to sing. Her throat burned as she held back her tears.
When they started the second verse, Hannah glanced up at the singers. Chase’s lips wobbled uncontrollably as he gazed at Thom’s face. Win had stopped singing completely. His eyes were clenched tight and tears trickled silently down his cheeks. Daisy had turned toward Jake’s shoulder, hiding her face. Hannah needed to get the group back out into the cold before they were all overcome with grief. This was Christmas Eve. A night of miracles, not sadness. As soon as they were finished, she would see them out.
Opposite Markus, Hannah took Thom’s other hand and kissed the back of it. “Merry Christmas, darling,” she whispered. “Come back to me. I love you.” Unable to stop the tears a moment longer, she shut her eyes, offering up a silent prayer.
“Look!” Markus yelled, his shrill alarm startling them all. He pointed straight at Thom’s face.
Everyone stopped singing.
Thom’s eyes fluttered once. Twice. Then opened completely. He took in the sight for a few moments, then the corners of his lips slowly tipped up. Ivan woofed and wagged his tail.
Hannah dropped to her knees and buried her face against Thom’s chest, breathing in his scent. His arm moved over her. He was as weak as a newborn, but he was finally coming around.
Chase and Jessie stepped back, letting Dr. Thorn get to the side of the bed. He felt Thom’s pulse and looked into his eyes. “Can you speak? Can you tell me your name?”
Thom stroked the back of Hannah’s hair. She felt a rumble in his chest before the words came out of his mouth.
“Yes. I. Can. Doc.” His voice was soft. Raspy.
Everyone gasped. Then cheered.
“Thomas Winslow Donovan. Irish, twenty-three years old, deputy sheriff of Logan Meadows, in love with my soon-to-be wife, Hannah May Hoskins, and father to my soon-to-be son, Markus Hoskins.” He took a deep breath. “My dog is named Ivan. And you, Win, were singing out of—”
“Praise God!” Reverend Wilbrand exclaimed. The smile on Dr. Thorn’s face said it all.
Hannah gazed into Thom’s face. Held his cheek in her palm. He reached up and brushed away her tears with his thumb. All the nights she’d sat by his bedside or crawled into bed next to him, praying, begging God to bring him back. This was the most wonderful Christmas present she’d ever received.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I have since forever. Nothing, and no one, not even a million years will ever change that. In sickness and in health,” she stressed. “Good times and in bad.”
His lips trembled as he said hoarsely, “I was a senseless fool to think a piece of metal could keep us apart. It’s you who makes me whole, Hannah, you and Markus. And whether it’s trouble or just my own fears, I promise you, I’ll never run away again.”
Don’t miss more heartfelt romance by Caroline Fyffe! Three days are all she asks of him. Three days to ignite a love neither of them ever imagined possible…
“A sweet Americana western…Here is the type of story readers reach for when they need to be uplifted.”—Romantic Times
Available now on Amazon.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, a huge debt of gratitude goes to my phenomenal editor, Caitlin Alexander, for her countless wonderful suggestions, gentle nudges, and encouraging me always onward. Working with her was a joy from beginning to end and I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity.
To Gene Harm, for the crackling fires, gallons of savory coffee, and plethora of uniquely creative ideas.
To Pam Berehulke, Leslie Lynch, Sandy Loyd, and Lisa
Tapp, for your time and talent.
Never to forget my wonderful readers! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
And as always, much love and gratitude go to my husband, Michael, and sons, Matthew and Adam, for their support and encouragement.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by The Family Gallery, 2007
Caroline Fyffe was born in Waco, Texas, the first of many towns she would call home during her father’s career with the US Air Force. A horse aficionado from an early age, she earned a Bachelor of Arts in communications from California State University–Chico before launching what would become a twenty-year career as an equine photographer. She began writing fiction to pass the time during long days in the show arena, channeling her love of horses and the Old West into a series of Western historicals. Her debut novel, Where the Wind Blows, won the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart Award as well as the Wisconsin RWA’s Write Touch Readers’ Award. She and her husband have two grown sons and live in Kentucky.
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