Gift of Grace

by Shanna Hatfield

  She should have sent it weeks ago, but her grandmother would be pleased with any news that came, no matter when it arrived.

  Nora stepped onto the back porch and opened the ice box, taking out several sausage patties. It didn’t take her long to mix up a batch of biscuits. While they baked, she fried the sausage then used the drippings to make gravy. When she heard J.B. stamping snow from his boots on the steps, she cracked several eggs into a hot skillet and scrambled them.

  By the time he hung up his coat and hat and washed his hands, she had breakfast on the table. She poured a cup of coffee for him and made a cup of tea for herself, sweetening it with a heaping spoon of sugar.

  J.B. gave her an appreciative look as he ate and sipped his coffee. Nora nibbled a biscuit with jam and toyed with the eggs on her plate. She was tired of being angry at J.B., but had no idea how to bridge the chasm that was between them. Truthfully, she was afraid to. What if they had another baby and it died just like Grace? Nora wasn’t sure she could endure a second devastating loss.

  When did you turn into such a coward?

  The voice in her head sounded a lot like her father’s. Was she being a coward or just being cautious? Unwilling to examine her motives, she pointed to the box she’d left sitting on the end of the counter closest to the door.

  “The next time someone goes to town, could they please mail a package to Grandmother?”

  J.B. nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Someone will be heading into town soon, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you,” Nora said, primly, then took a slow sip of her tea.

  She watched as J.B. split open another biscuit and ladled gravy over it then topped it with sausages.

  He grinned and waggled his fork at her. “You make the best sausage gravy.” He took another bite then studied her as he chewed. “Do you have any plans today?”

  “No, not really. I thought I’d try to finish my gift for Anna Erickson. I was thinking I might make a batch of doughnuts later.”

  J.B. appeared interested at the mention of doughnuts. “There are still several jugs of cider in the springhouse. I could bring one in to go with the doughnuts.”

  “I could warm it up and add some spices, if you like,” Nora said, thinking how good the hot cider would taste on such a cold, wintry day.

  “That sounds fine.” J.B. hurriedly finished his breakfast, carried his dishes to the sink, then shrugged into his coat. “Thanks for breakfast. It was delicious as always.”

  “You’re welcome.” Nora watched him take the box she wanted mailed and leave. She turned her attention back to her breakfast and finished eating. After she washed the dishes, she set a pot of beans to soaking then went to the parlor and started working on one of the napkins to match the tablecloth she’d finished for Anna.

  Daylight brightened the sky. Nora looked up from her work, grateful to see sunbeams streaming in the window. Outside, it glistened on the snow, making the whole world sparkle.

  “So beautiful,” Nora whispered, indulging in several moments of just looking out the window at the splendor of the winter scene before she returned to her work.

  She finished one napkin and began on a second when she decided to start the dough for the doughnuts. While she was at it, she made a batch of cookies and helped herself to one. Assured it tasted fine, she was on her way back to her needlework in the parlor when the kitchen door swung open and young Erik Erickson raced inside.

  “Hi, Mrs. Nash!” the little boy said, running over to her and giving her a hug. His nose was as red as a ripe strawberry, but he was bundled up from a warm knit cap on his head to the boots on his feet.

  J.B. stood in the doorway, grinning at them both. “Anna and Einar had some things to see to in town and asked if Erik could stay with us. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Not at all,” Nora said, beaming at the little boy. “I just took cookies out of the oven. Do you think you might like one?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Erik said, rushing to get out of his coat and remove his hat, scarf, and mittens.

  Nora laughed as she helped him, not even noticing when J.B. closed the door and left. She settled Erik at the table with a glass of milk and two cookies, still warm from the oven.

  “What do you think we should do today?” Nora asked as she sipped from another cup of tea.

  Erik considered her question then smiled brightly. “Can you help me make a present for my mor?”

  Nora had been around the Erickson family enough to know mor meant mother. “I’d love to help you. Do you have something in mind you’d like to make?”

  “No, but something nice.” Erik took a drink of his milk, leaving behind a white mustache on his upper lip.

  Nora smiled at him as she considered the things they could make for Anna. She could help Erik crochet a scarf or perhaps embroider a handkerchief, but she’d be doing most of the work and the gift should be something special from him. She thought about things she wished she had from Grace, like a photograph, or even a tracing of her delicate little hands.

  Inspired with an idea, Nora got up and mixed together flour and salt then stirred in water.

  “What’s that, Mrs. Nash?” Erik asked, getting up on his knees and leaning across the table when she brought the bowl over and sat down. She started to knead the dough, knowing it would take a lot of kneading to get it smooth.

  “It’s your mother’s present.”

  Erik’s little brow furrowed into a frown. “Bread?”

  “It’s not bread, sweetheart. It’s salt dough. We’re going to make something very special for your mother with it.” Nora continued kneading while Erik watched.

  “We are?”

  “Yes, we are.” She lifted her hands from the bowl then motioned to him. “Come over here and you can help me knead.”

  “Okay!” Erik jumped out of the chair and ran around the table then climbed onto Nora’s lap. She breathed in the scent of little boy. He smelled like sunshine, dogs, and smoky bacon with something she could only describe as pure sweetness. With her arms around him, she showed him how to punch down the dough, fold it, and knead it.

  When she was satisfied with the consistency and elasticity of the dough, she wiped her hands on a dishtowel and did the same for Erik.

  Nora set the little boy on his feet, retrieved her largest baking pan, wiped it with a bit of lard, then set it on the table. She took the lump of dough out of the bowl, set it on the baking pan, then formed it into a heart shape.

  When she set the pan on the floor, Erik gave her a puzzled look.

  “Let’s take off your sock,” she said, pulling him onto her lap. She rolled off Erik’s sock, then positioned his foot over the dough. “You’re going to step into the dough and leave a footprint. Then we’ll do the same thing with your hand. Once this dough dries out, I have some watercolors we can use to paint it. How does that sound?”

  “Fun!” Erik said, giggling as he stepped into the dough and it squished between his toes. Nora lifted him up and set him on the table, wiping off his foot and removing all traces of the dough before she slipped on his sock.

  “Now, we’ll do your hand,” she said, setting the pan back on the table and pushing up his shirt sleeve.

  Erik watched as she positioned his hand then laughed as he pushed his hand into the dough. “I like that,” he said, letting her wipe the dough from his hand when they finished. “Will Mor eat it?”

  “No, it will be something she can keep forever and remember exactly how tiny your hands and feet were when you were a little boy.” Nora used the end of a spoon to poke a hole in the top of the dough so she’d be able to add a ribbon for hanging.

  “Mor will like that. She says I’m going to be a big man someday.” Erik puffed out his little chest and hopped off the table, following Nora as she slid the baking sheet into the oven. “How long do you have to cook it?”

  “Several hours. It has to be completely dry before we can paint it,” Nora said, washing her hands and wiping bits of dough off
the table. “Are your parents coming back soon?”

  “Mor said they would have lunch in town.”

  “Well, our project should be finished before they come back. While it dries, why don’t we go outside and visit Bing?”

  Erik whooped with excitement and Nora couldn’t help but catch his infectious enthusiasm.

  When J.B. came in for lunch, he brought an icy cold jug of cider. “If you want to warm that up mid-afternoon, it would taste good with those doughnuts you mentioned and be a nice thing to serve when Einar and Anna return.”

  Nora nodded and shifted her attention to cutting a slice of ham for Erik.

  After lunch, Erik sat on Nora’s lap while they painted the heart for his mother. On the back, Nora used black paint to write the date, Eric’s name, and his age. As soon as they finished and the paint dried, she tied a ribbon through the hole in the top then placed the dried dough in a box padded with batting she had left over from the last quilt she made. She wrapped the box in a piece of brown paper but tied it with a luxurious red bow.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Nash!” Erik gave her a tight hug.

  She wrapped her arms around the little boy and hugged him back, grateful for the joy his presence had given her.

  “I didn’t think to ask, but do you have a gift for your father?” Nora asked when she released Erik.

  “Yep! Mor helped me make a hook for him to hang things on in the barn.” Erik ran to the window and pointed outside. “They’re back!”

  Nora moved behind him and watched as Einar helped Anna out of their sleigh. J.B. hurried out of the barn to greet them. The doughnuts sat ready to serve and the cider warmed on the stove in a pan with spices. The scent of it filled the house with a delicious aroma.

  With efficient movements, Nora took cups down from a shelf and set plates and napkins on the table. Erik remained at the window, hopping off one foot to the other, impatient to see his parents. When J.B. pushed the door open, Erik rushed over to his mother, telling her about lunch and making doughnuts and working on a secret project.

  “My goodness, it sounds like you had an exciting time,” Anna said, kissing Erik’s cheeks then smiling at Nora. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

  “He was an angel,” Nora said, offering Anna a friendly hug. “I’m happy to have him visit anytime.”

  “We won’t make a habit of it, but we appreciate you taking care of him today,” Einar said, standing just inside the door with his hat in hand.

  “Please, come in and warm up a minute. Erik helped me make doughnuts and we have hot cider.”

  “Doughnuts and cider?” Einar asked with a grin. “I don’t think we can turn down an offer like that.”

  Later that evening, as Nora sat stitching on a napkin and J.B. read by the fire, she looked over at her husband. She didn’t know how he’d made arrangements with the Ericksons to leave Erik with her, but she was sure he had something to do with it. Spending time with the little boy had done her a world of good. Being with Erik made her realize no matter how much her heart ached now, she wanted another child of her own to love.

  Chapter Eight

  J.B. leaned back in his chair and glanced at Nora as she sat on the opposite side of the table. Doctor Reed and his wife, Maxine, had invited them for lunch after church. The pastor was there along with a few other couples they’d met. With the house decorated for Christmas and the scent of spices from the cake they’d just eaten lingering in the air, it seemed a festive way to spend the afternoon.

  Nora wore one of his favorite dresses. It wasn’t blue or gray, but a shade somewhere in between that matched her eyes when she was angry. If he looked close enough, he could almost see sparks dancing in them. He’d never been out on the open sea, but he pictured the color being akin to the hue of the ocean right before a storm with lightning streaking across the sky.

  Lately, it seemed Nora was always and forever angry at him about something. He supposed it was just part of her grief and she’d eventually get over it, but he wouldn’t mind at all if it went away soon. Although he did enjoy seeing her eyes that particular shade of bluish-gray, he could do without the irate glances and stilted conversations.

  She caught him looking at her and made a face that caused him to take a drink from his cup of coffee to hide his grin. That girl had so many fun and funny expressions, he often had a hard time keeping a straight face when she rolled her eyes or pursed her lips, or set her stubborn chin just so.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, she was enjoying the gathering of friends as well as the delicious meal. He’d noticed her looking around at the Christmas decorations and wondered if she planned to decorate their home. He knew she’d packed a box of Christmas keepsakes that she’d brought along on their journey, but he had yet to see any of them around the house. Maybe she planned to just skip the holiday altogether, but he hoped that wasn’t the case. Christmas was fast approaching and he intended to make it as special as he could, all things considered.

  In fact, he and Einar Erickson planned to leave early Tuesday morning to make the long trek into the nearby mountains to bring home a load of Christmas trees. They figured they could each take one then sell the rest in town for a tidy profit. J.B. would have gladly given the trees away, but it was smart to make money when they could. Everything had been more expensive than he’d anticipated, from the lumber he purchased to the equipment he needed. It was a good thing his wife could live frugally. They weren’t hurting for money, but he wanted to have plenty come spring. With cattle and equipment to buy not to mention expanding their acres of wheat and pasture and adding a few more hired hands, they’d need every penny he could earn or save. He also wanted to build Nora the big, beautiful house she deserved, but she’d told him it could wait a few years. Since it was just the two of them, their current home was more than adequate.

  Perhaps in another year or two, they’d be looking forward to the arrival of an addition to their family. Nora was going to have to get past hating him, though, or pretending she hated him.

  “You’re a cattleman, J.B. What do you think about such proceedings?” asked Lou Ackerman, owner of a livery stable.

  “My apologies. I missed part of the conversation,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

  “That’s because you’re too busy making moony eyes at your lovely wife,” Mrs. Reed teased.

  Nora’s face flushed a bright shade of red and J.B. hid a chuckle behind a cough. He looked to Mr. Ackerman. “Would you repeat the question?”

  “I was reading the newspaper yesterday. An article mentioned a cow got loose in the judge’s garden area and he shot the poor beast dead,” Mr. Ackerman said, leaning back in his chair with his beefy forearms braced on the edge of the table. “Seems to me a cow would be worth a lot more than a garden space, seeing as how it’s winter and nothing would be growing anyway. What are your thoughts on the subject?”

  J.B. nodded in agreement. “A cow is worth far more than dead plants, but it sounds like the judge was making a point more than anything. Everyone should know not to cross him.”

  “That was my assumption, as well,” Doctor Reed said.

  “Did you see the story about a cure for small pox, Doc?” Mr. Ackerman asked.

  “I did and I can assure you it is nothing but a bunch of nonsense. There is no possibility that drinking a mixture of cold water, cream of tartar and rhubarb powder will cure small pox,” Doctor Reed said, his voice thick with disapproval. “It’s appalling the newspaper would publish such rubbish as fact. The best thing anyone can do is to receive the small pox vaccination created by Edward Jenner. It’s proven to be the most effective method of controlling small pox.”

  “I’m glad we haven’t had any problems like that around here,” Pastor Whitting said, joining the conversation. “It would be disastrous.”

  “Yes, it would.” Doctor Reed cleared his throat and glanced at his wife with a smug smile. “There was another article in the paper of much interest. Did you read about a woman’s love?”
<
br />   “No,” Mr. Ackerman said, wrinkling his broad brow as he appeared to attempt to recall what he’d read in the newspaper. “What did it say?”

  Mrs. Reed gave the doctor a warning look. He merely lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed the backs of them before he turned his attention to his rapt audience. “It stated that a woman’s love is an unmanageable, absurd thing and when given the option, she’ll settle her affections on the wrong fellow every time. It went on with an example of a girl who had nothing more than feathers in her head spurning the love of a good man while pining for the one who broke her heart. Sad, it is, there are those of the female persuasion who don’t have sense enough to see what’s right in front of their face.”

  Doctor Reed ducked, laughing uproariously as his wife flailed him with her napkin.

  “That is enough out of you, sir!” Mrs. Reed said, giving him a lemony glare that made the rest of the men at the table smile. “If you wish to tell a story, I’m sure everyone would enjoy hearing about the President’s horses.”

  “I saw that bit in the paper,” Mr. Ackerman said with a grin. “Seems our president has installed gas lighting in the stables for the horses. I heard some of them are stolen.”

  “I believe the one he calls Jeff Davis was appropriated by the Army from Joe Davis’ place during a battle. President Grant purchased the horse for his son, but I’ve heard he enjoys riding it, too.”

  “Well, I betcha there are more than a few he didn’t come by honestly,” Mr. Ackerman said, daring anyone to argue with him.

  Although the man hadn’t fought in the war, J.B. knew his sympathies were with the confederates. Before the conversation took a political turn, J.B. looked at the pastor. “Will there be a special Christmas Eve service at church?”

  “As long as the weather cooperates,” Pastor Whitting said. “The Christmas Eve service will begin at four, so no one is out too late in the cold. A few of the women are planning to serve light refreshments. With Christmas landing on a Sunday this year, we’ll also hold our regular service that morning.”