Christmas With The Colburns (The Uncharted Series Book 4)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  He nodded and then pointed at the crying baby. “He’s got Connor’s coloring.”

  “And Connor’s need for adventure.” Lydia rubbed Andrew’s back as she stepped to the cabinet for bandaging material. She glanced at Nicholas and tried to think of something to say to distract from the crying baby. “Do you have any special plans for Christmas?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know if you’d call my plans special, but my aunt usually makes a big roast for dinner on Christmas Day. My family never had elaborate traditions like some people. My grandfather always said it was better not to have traditions than to be disappointed when they ended.”

  Lydia thought of her family’s traditions and her disappointment with the coming holiday. “Our traditions changed when my mother died years ago. I’ve tried my best to keep some of the traditions alive, but it seems I’m the only one who cares anymore. Perhaps your grandfather was right—”

  After one short knock, the office door opened a few inches. Bethany stuck her head inside. “Lydia, Aunt Isabella needs you.”

  Lydia crossed the medical office with three quick strides—still holding the baby—and met her younger sister at the door. “I’m with a patient. What does she need?”

  Bethany fidgeted with the delicate silver bracelet at her wrist. “She asked for you. Oh, hello Nicholas. I wondered why Everett’s wagon was parked out front.”

  Nicholas smiled apologetically. “Everett drove me here to see the doctor. It was just a nail in my foot, but he insisted. He’s in the barn now.”

  “In the barn?” Bethany’s countenance lit at the mention of Everett’s presence. “I’ll go see him.”

  “Wait.” Lydia stopped her love-struck sister. “Can you help Isabella first, please?”

  Bethany shook her head. “I tried. She doesn’t need any help. She just wants you to sit with her.”

  “Tell her I will be back in the house in few minutes,” Lydia raised her voice over Andrew’s cries. “I’m almost done here.”

  Bethany touched the baby’s arm. “What’s wrong with Andrew?”

  “He hit his head.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine. It’s past his naptime.”

  Bethany pointed at his back. “He has blood on his shirt.”

  Lydia checked the baby and saw a smear of her patient’s blood. It was on her hand too. “I was in the middle of cleaning a wound when Andrew needed me.”

  Bethany reached for the baby. “I’ll take him in the house with me.”

  “What about going to see Everett?”

  “You need me more,” she said, and then she looked at Nicholas. “Do tell Everett to come say hello before you leave.”

  Nicholas nodded. “I will.”

  Lydia kissed the baby then watched Bethany carry him away. “Thank you. Connor should be home from teaching school soon.” She closed the door, washed her hands, and unwrapped the muslin material to cut a length for a bandage.

  Nicholas raised himself to his elbows. “Everett told me about your aunt. She sounds like an interesting person. I wish I’d known her before she lost her faculties. Do you think her health will improve?”

  “No. She’s seventy-eight, blind, and has been bedridden for months. Her heart is still strong, but she doesn’t know who anyone is anymore except...”

  “Except you?”

  “Except me. It’s thoughtful of you to ask about her.” Lydia wrapped the bandage around Nicholas’s foot. “How does that feel?”

  “Much better. Thank you.” He wiggled his toes then stood. “You were right about the gray leaf ointment. I can’t feel the pain at all now.”

  “Remember to use the rest of it like I told you.”

  He limped to the door, keeping the heel of his bandaged foot off the floor. “It doesn’t hurt, but I probably shouldn’t press my heel to the ground, should I?”

  “No. And please wear shoes while you’re working from now on.”

  A grin spread to his sideburns. “Yes, of course.” He stopped at the door. After a moment, pensiveness filled his eyes. “I must say I’m impressed with you. Not many women could manage a household and a baby and an ailing relative and keep working as the village’s physician. You seem to do it all with grace to spare.”

  “That’s a very kind thing to say.” Lydia followed him to the door and pointed at his foot. “You’re welcome to wait here and I’ll go tell Everett to take you home.”

  “No, thank you. I can handle it.” He smiled as he left the medical cottage. “Thank you, Doctor Bradshaw.”

  Chapter Three

  Morning light flooded the kitchen as Lydia opened the back door of the Colburn house. Heat from the wood-burning oven and the scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls warmed the wide room. She checked the oatmeal on the stove. Breakfast was ready, Bethany had taken juice and a boiled egg to Aunt Isabella, and Connor was dressing Andrew. The house was peaceful and tidy, but inside Lydia felt like a mess. She peeked into the stocked pantry and sighed. Less than a week until Christmas, but since her guest list had shrunk from seventeen to five, she had lost her motivation to begin preparations.

  Connor carried Andrew into the kitchen. He kissed Lydia then sat at the table. Andrew giggled as his father bounced him on his knee. They should be reason enough to cook a big Christmas dinner. If her siblings were starting their own traditions, maybe she should too.

  She spooned oatmeal into Andrew’s tiny bowl and stirred it. “Ready for some breakfast?”

  Connor reached for the little bowl. “Here, I’ll feed him.”

  “Are you sure? You need to leave soon.”

  “I have time. Today’s the last day of school. All I have to do is give the final exam and grade the tests when the students are done. This year my class is a smart group of kids. They’ll be finished by lunch.”

  Lydia smiled as she reached for the serving tongs. “They have a good teacher.” She pulled two hot cinnamon rolls from the steaming pan and put one on her plate and one on Connor’s then sat beside him.

  Andrew wiggled and grabbed for the spoon as Connor blew on the oatmeal. “Hang on a second, pal. It’s too hot for you.”

  John walked into the kitchen, running his fingers through his graying hair. “Good morning,” he said as he stretched his suspenders over his shoulders. “Today will be another fine day. Not a cloud in the sky.”

  Lydia glanced at him as she picked up her fork. “Good morning, Father.”

  John lifted the coffee pot from the stove and carried it to the table. He offered Connor a refill then sat at the head of the table. Creases lined the corners of his crystal blue eyes as he flashed the baby a grin. “How is my grandson this morning?”

  Andrew squealed, and oatmeal dribbled to his chin. Connor wiped it with the edge of the spoon and re-fed it to the baby. “He’s eating like a champ.”

  “Excellent. Grow up big and strong like your father.” John handed Connor a napkin. “Lydia, what are your plans for the day?”

  Before she could answer, Bethany shuffled in from the parlor, holding a tray of untouched food. “I couldn’t get Aunt Isabella to wake up.” She set the tray on the counter and looked at Lydia. “Maybe you should check on her.”

  John stood so quickly his wooden chair made a sharp screech on the floor. Lydia accidentally swallowed a bite of cinnamon roll without chewing it. The painful lump made her cough as she rose to leave the table.

  John passed behind her chair. “Finish your breakfast. I will go check Isabella.”

  Bethany sank into the chair across from Lydia. She curled her long legs into her chest and whispered, “Do you think Aunt Isabella is—”

  “Shh!” Connor silenced Bethany as he tried to listen. Even the baby held perfectly still until two muffled voices came from the back bedroom.

  John returned a moment later. “She was sleeping.”

  Bethany sighed and released her legs. “Oh, thank God. When I was trying to wake her, I didn’t consider that she might be dead.”
r />   John laid his napkin in his lap. “Be prepared. Her time is coming soon.”

  “Father, that’s a horrible thing to say!”

  He selected a cinnamon roll from the pan and arched an eyebrow at Bethany. “It is the truth. She has not been out of bed for days. You must prepare yourself so that you do not go into shock, should you be the one to discover she has passed.”

  Bethany frowned. “I don’t want to think about it.” She stood and carried her empty juice glass to the sink. “I promised Mrs. Vestal I’d take care of all the orders at the pottery yard today. I have to go to work.”

  John cut a piece of cinnamon roll with his fork and swirled it in the white icing on his plate. “Before you leave,” he said as he pointed to a pail by the pantry, “please go milk Greta.”

  Bethany picked up the bucket. “Fine. But who is going to milk the cow after I get married and move out? Baby Andrew?”

  Connor chuckled as he scraped the last of the oatmeal from Andrew’s bowl and fed it to the baby. “He’ll be old enough to handle the chore by then—the way you and Everett are dragging your feet to the altar.”

  “Very funny.” Bethany strode out the back door.

  John finished his breakfast and held his hands out to take the baby. “Come see your grandfather, Andrew.” He looked at Connor. “Last day of school?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you decided what you will do during the break?”

  “You mean about training to be the next overseer?” When John nodded, Connor pushed his plate of uneaten breakfast away. “I think we should get the approval of the other villages’ overseers first. If they don’t think I should be the next overseer of Good Springs, then I don’t even have a decision to make.”

  John sipped from his coffee mug. The baby took a playful swipe at the cup. John didn’t flinch. He placed it on the table out of Andrew’s reach. “Since the role of village overseer is normally passed from father to son, it might seem like a radical change to some people—my training a man who is my son-in-law and not my son—but the overseers of the other villages understand our situation. It is no secret that Levi has never felt called to be the next overseer of Good Springs. The elders have prayed for years that God would send the right man for the position after me. I believe you are that man.”

  “I’m open to the possibility, but there are parts of the job I’m not ready for.”

  “You are a natural leader.” John patted the baby’s back. “Most people in the village recognize your authority. And we already know you are a good teacher.”

  Connor leaned forward. “I have no problem settling disputes, officiating weddings, and having the final say in village business; it’s the weightier responsibility of pastoring the church that deserves more consideration.” He pressed his hands together and stared at the peak of his fingers. “I have so much to learn.”

  Lydia listened to her father and husband as she began cleaning the kitchen. They rarely spoke about village business at the breakfast table, and she liked being allowed to listen. She pressed the wooden foot pedal beneath the sink, and water pumped in from the well.

  John continued trying to convince Connor to accept his calling. “That is why we should begin your training during the summer months while you are free of your teaching duties. I am fifty-four years old. My father and grandfather both passed away before they were my age. I might live another thirty years and be able to continue working as overseer, or I might need a replacement next month. Since my son is not called to the position, I must find another man to train.” John passed the baby back to Connor. “You are right to give this decision much prayer and consideration, but I have full confidence that you are the right man for the position. I want you to ride out to Woodland Monday morning and spend a few days with the overseer there. It is time to move the process forward.”

  Lydia dropped the metal tongs into the sink, and the sharp clink drew everyone’s attention. “A few days? In Woodland? But Christmas is Thursday!”

  Connor gave her a don’t-worry-about-man-business look and patted the air. “I’ll be back for Christmas, I promise.”

  John glanced between them. “I will let the two of you discuss it,” he said as he walked out the back door. “But I will need your answer soon, Connor.”

  Lydia took the baby from Connor. “This will be Andrew’s first Christmas, and already most of my family members have made other plans. You have to be here.”

  “I’ll be here, but I really think you’re making too much of this. I know you want all of your siblings to be here every Christmas for the rest of your life, but you have to let people do what’s right for them. I think it’s good that Levi and Mandy are going to spend the day with Roseanna and Everett at the Fosters’ farm, since it’s their first year without Samuel. And your sisters aren’t being selfish. Their families are growing too, and the long wagon trip here is hard on the children.” Connor shrugged and put his coffee mug in the sink. “Besides, the seasons are opposite here in the Land from what I grew up with in America, so it never feels like Christmas to me anyway. As a kid I felt sorry for people living on the Southern Hemisphere—warm Christmases and cold Julys—and now I’m one of you.” He winked at her, but she didn’t smile.

  He spoke casually about the one holiday tradition that was important to her: having her whole family together on Christmas Day. It was her way of honoring her mother. How could she give that up?

  She backed away from the sink. “Fine,” she huffed as she carried the baby out of the room. “Go spend the week in Woodland. My Christmas is ruined anyway!”

  Chapter Four

  Lydia pulled the hairpins from her chignon and dropped them into a glass votive atop her dresser. When she glanced into the mirror, her reflection reminded her more of her mother than of herself. She averted her eyes and picked up her hairbrush.

  After a few slow strokes, she flipped her hair behind her back and waited for Connor to notice her new nightgown. Sitting on the other side of the bed, he stared into the wardrobe as he unbuttoned his shirt. He rarely went this long without looking at her.

  She rubbed her bare arms, hoping to draw his attention to the gown’s lack of sleeves. “Mandy has taken up sewing. She says it’s nesting since she only has a few weeks until the baby comes, but her clothing designs are anything but matronly.”

  He removed his socks and dropped them on the floor.

  She blew out the flame of the oil lamp on her bedside table and straightened the dainty silk bow on her gown’s low-cut neckline. “So what do you think?”

  “Hm?” He kept his back to her. The low light of his lamp defined his muscular build.

  “About the nightgown Mandy made for me?”

  He angled his chin toward her. “Nice.”

  “Connor? Are you mad about this morning?”

  “No.”

  “Because I was just frustrated with my family. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

  He lowered his head into his hands. “That’s not it.”

  “What brought this on?” She moved across the bed and wanted to touch him, to wrap her arms around him, to pull him from whatever abyss his thoughts had dragged him into. But she waited. He would feel her near him and reach for her when he was ready. Whenever he was smothered by that dark silence, her insides twisted into aching knots. She put her hand to her stomach and asked God to give him peace.

  Connor lifted his head but still did not look at her. His voice was low and gruff. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Worry about me.”

  She removed her hand from her middle. “I was praying for you.”

  He let out a quick breath—the kind that would ordinarily prelude a chuckle—and cast his gaze to the ceiling. “I’m sorry. Yes, do that. Definitely do that.”

  She laid her cheek against the warm skin of his back. “What has happened?”

  “Nothing.” He rubbed his thumb along the lace strap at her shoulder. “This new?�
�

  “It is.” She touched the silk bow as she searched his face. His eyes were on her, but the darkness remained. His effort to hide his anxiety was valiant, but unnecessary. “Are you going to Woodland tomorrow?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, and it left black grooves like a plowed field. “I have to. I know you’re worried about your holiday traditions, but your father is right: I need to make the decision whether or not I’ll train to be the next overseer of Good Springs. I’ve put this off long enough.”

  “I didn’t mean to make things harder on you.”

  Connor furrowed his brow. “You’ve never made things hard on me. You make my life complete. I love you and Andrew and this family and this village. I want to do the right thing for everyone.”

  She had grown used to the idea of her husband becoming the next leader of Good Springs someday, and she was beginning to like it. It meant they would live their lives in the Colburn house, but it also meant they would both have jobs that would frequently interrupt family time, including holidays. But if it were what he was called to do, she could deal with the inconveniences. “It’s just bad timing, that’s all.”

  “I don’t want to leave you at Christmastime, especially while Isabella is near death and you’re busy with the baby and work. And I know you’re upset because the rest of your family is doing their own thing this year, but your dad will be here. This is his house, after all.” He was smiling now. She could hear it in his voice. “I will try my best to be back by Christmas dinner. I have to do this and I need you to trust me. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  “Good.” He peeled the quilt back. “Now let’s forget about it for tonight, please. At any moment a villager could bring a sick or wounded person to the medical office and ring the bell, and we won’t have another quiet moment alone for days.”

  As Connor leaned onto the pillow beside her and pulled her close, the detestable darkness receded. The sweetness of being together in the quiet of the night took its place. As he traced a finger along her arm, she let out a contented sigh. She could not forget everything was changing, but she could put it aside long enough to enjoy their time together.