Holidays with the Weavers

by Kit Morgan

  Her heart plummeted. What if she never got her memory back? She couldn’t stay with the Weavers forever. She was an extra mouth to feed, a body to house – even if she pitched in and helped every day, would it be enough? And what about George? Her affection for him was only getting more intense, but he was leaving in a few days. The best she could hope for would be to enjoy his company while she could. Then he’d be gone and she’d be back to square one.

  She sought his face, needing his smile in that moment. He was her rock in this violent storm of confusion, not knowing who she was, what her life had been like or where she’d been going. When she was with him, the fear and frustration stopped and peace surrounded her. But what would happen when he left?

  “Olivia, do you mind helping me with the dishes?” Ebba asked as the family began to leave the table.

  “No, of course not.” She got up, looked at George and smiled. “We’ll make some coffee, get a few things cleaned up, then have dessert when the rest of the family arrives.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” he said, looking around the dining room. “This is a good-sized house. I like it.”

  “Do you own a house in Oregon City?”

  “No, we have an apartment over the shop. The furniture store is in the front of the building, the workshop’s in the back, and our place is upstairs. It’s pretty large, though – three bedrooms.”

  “My, that is nice for an apartment,” she agreed.

  “Do you … remember where you lived?”

  She shook her head and stepped away from the table.

  “That’s all right. I’m sure you will in time.”

  She shrugged. “I hope so. When I think about it, I feel … disjointed? Like I had no real home at all.”

  “Perhaps you were a mysterious gypsy,” he teased.

  She smiled. “I’m hardly the type. A gypsy can take care of herself – I can barely make coffee.”

  “Perhaps you forgot how?”

  “You’re giving me an excuse, but I can’t take it. I wish I could.”

  He got up and walked around the table. “Olivia, don’t fret. You’ll get your memory back. It just takes time.”

  “How much time?” Olivia winced – that had come out more desperate than she’d wanted it to. “Well, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  He took her hand. Ebba was still in the room, clearing away the dishes, but she just smiled at them, looked away and continued her work. “Be patient,” he said gently. “Things may begin to come back a little at a time. But they’ll come, I’m sure of it.” He patted her hand and released it.

  She wished he hadn’t let go. “Thank you for the reminder. Sometimes I feel such despair.”

  “Oh no, not that. Never feel that.”

  “I can’t help it. It just comes.”

  He took her hand again. “Let me help you.”

  Her eyes rounded to platters. “But you’re leaving.”

  He bit his lip and looked away. “Maybe not right away.”

  “What?” she whispered as her heart leaped.

  “I … could stay awhile.”

  “But …” Ebba had left the dining room by now. They were alone. “But George, you can’t stay here forever.”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stay a little while. From the sound of it, there are plenty of folks in town that want me to do some work for them, and Clarence can handle things back at the shop.”

  “But … what can you do to help me? You can’t make my memory come back.”

  “No, I can’t, but I can at least offer my support. And even once I’m gone, we can write to each other.”

  And there it was. He’d have to leave eventually – Oregon City was his home, not Nowhere. She swallowed the lump in her throat. For a moment, however small, she thought he wanted more, that he was staying for her, to get to know her better …

  “Olivia, can you help me now?” Ebba asked from the kitchen doorway.

  “Yes, of course.” She pulled her hand from George’s. “I have to go. Why don’t you join the others in the parlor? The rest of the family will be here soon.” She left him standing there and went to help Ebba with the dishes.

  Eleven

  Olivia sat next to George in the parlor, not caring what Ma thought. If she only had a little time left to spend with him, she’d enjoy it while she could. Thankfully neither Ma nor anyone else objected, or even gave her a disapproving look.

  “I want to pick next!” Gabby cried, running to the Christmas tree. “Which one’s mine?”

  “You only get to open one,” Bella warned.

  Gabby turned to her and rolled her eyes. “I know. Now which one?”

  “Try lookin’ for yer name, silly,” Calvin teased.

  “Oh.” Gabby turned back to the wrapped packages and began to sort through them, careful not to jostle them too much. “I found one!” She hurried to the chair where Bella sat. “What is it?”

  Bella smiled at Calvin. “Open it and find out.”

  Olivia watched with interest as the eight-year-old ripped the paper off the long rectangular box and gasped. “Needles and yarn!”

  “How ‘bout that?” Calvin said. “Now ya can knit me a new pair of socks.”

  “I can’t knit socks,” Gabby said with another eye roll. “I can only knit scarfs.”

  “And she’s not very good at it,” Leonardo added.

  “Basta, Leo,” Bella scolded. “She will get better with time.”

  Leo stuck his tongue out at Gabby, who returned the gesture and retreated to a corner to admire her gift.

  “Can I pick next?” Leo asked. He was the only child who hadn’t opened a gift yet. The others were either playing with theirs or showing them off to the others. The adults would open theirs in the morning.

  “Go ahead,” Calvin told him. “But be mindful of the other gifts.”

  The boy nodded and crawled over to the tree.

  Olivia and George watched with smiles on their faces. Olivia marveled at the wonderful things the children had received so far. She knew the family had gone into Nowhere to shop in the mercantile – after all, they’d found her on the way home.

  But she was curious where they got the money to buy them all. Did they get things throughout the year? The Weavers were very self-sufficient when it came to food and clothing, and made money from the sale of hats and clothes Bella and Ma made and sold in Quinn’s Mercantile. Still, some of these gifts were finer than what the mercantile could carry – they must have special-ordered them. Just how much money did those hats and clothes earn the family?

  She glanced around the large parlor. All the Weavers were smiling, Samijo and Arlan especially. She noted how Ma kept looking at them, tears in her eyes. Did they have something to do with the amazing gifts for the children? Did it matter? This was what family was all about, and she felt as if she were witnessing it for the first time. Hmmm …

  “What’s the matter?” George whispered.

  She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can explain it.”

  “Then don’t try.” He continued to gaze at her.

  Olivia gazed back, her heart so full she thought it might burst. She realized then that she wanted this, everything happening in the room at that moment: family, children, love and laughter. The craving was so strong, she felt like a starving prisoner. Had she been denied them? Had she ever experienced them before? She was beginning to wonder. She’d either had a charmed life or a miserable one, and she wasn’t sure which.

  “Olivia?” George whispered.

  “Yes?” she replied, continuing to watch the Weavers.

  “I got you something.”

  She turned to him. “Oh, George, you didn’t …”

  “I wanted to.”

  She bit her lip to keep fresh tears at bay. It didn’t work. “Oh, George …”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in silver and blue paper. “Here. You can either open it now or wait
until tomorrow.”

  She stared at it. “It’s beautiful.”

  He smiled. “I think so too.”

  Her smile broadened. “I should wait until tomorrow.” She looked at the floor and back. “I’m afraid I have nothing for you. I … I can’t make things. And I don’t have any money.”

  “You don’t have to give me anything. Your company is gift enough for me.”

  Olivia felt her heart melt. “Oh, George, what a sweet thing to say.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  She smiled shyly.

  “Gabby!” Arturo snapped. “What is this?”

  Gabby burst into giggles. “What’s it look like?”

  Arturo held up a jar. “Dirt and grass.”

  “Look closer, silly.”

  Ma’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, that had better not be what I think it is. If so, get it out of my house!”

  Arturo shook the jar.

  “Careful!” Gabby scolded. “You’ll scare him!”

  “Land sakes!” Ma cried. “If that’s one of your critters, Gabby, so help me …”

  “Calm down, Ma.” Calvin peered at the jar.

  Olivia gave Ebba and Daniel sitting next to her a puzzled look.

  Daniel grinned. “Gabby likes to catch things. Bugs, spiders, snakes, lizards …”

  Olivia cringed. “Don’t take the lid off!”

  “I’m not,” Arturo said as he continued to peer into the jar. “What is it?”

  Gabby left her corner, took the jar from him and turned it upside down and back. Small pieces of dirt fell through the holes she’d punctured into the lid of the jar. “There he is!”

  Arturo took the jar from her. “It’s a baby snake.”

  “EEK!” Ma cried. “Take it home with you!”

  Now Leonardo, Lucia and Melania started giggling.

  “I mean it!” Ma warned.

  Alfonzo took the jar from his brother and tapped the glass. “He’s kinda cute.”

  Gabby laughed in delight. “And there’s more!”

  “WHAT?!” Ma cried.

  “It’s fine, Ma,” Calvin soothed. “She keeps them in a box. She’ll turn them loose in spring.”

  “Land sakes,” Ma said. “What next?”

  “Don’t ask,” Harlan quipped. “Gabby, be sure not to bring any of your critters into this house, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” She frowned, took one look at Arturo and smiled again. “You have to feed him.”

  Her big brother smiled. “You’ll show me?”

  “Of course!”

  He smiled and motioned her over for a one-armed hug.

  Samijo brought out some toy blocks for the babies and toddlers to play with in front of the tree. George joined them on the floor and began to play too. Olivia smiled at his attentiveness and wondered if he and his late wife had any children besides Clarence. She could tell that he was very good with the little ones. She left the parlor before the water works started again. The evening had brought out all kinds of emotions, and she was still trying to sort through them.

  “Take these cookies into the parlor, please,” Ebba asked.

  Olivia took the platter from her and turned to go.

  “Are you all right?” Ebba asked gently, then saw the tears in her eyes. “Oh, you poor dear.” She took the platter back, set it on the kitchen table and pulled Olivia into a hug. “There there, don’t cry. Today is a happy day.”

  Olivia sniffed back tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  “It’s Christmas. People feel all kinds of things. I miss my parents at this time of year, and sometimes I get sad. But the good Lord brought me to this big family. I only wish Mother and Father could be here too.”

  “That’s all well and good, Ebba, but I can’t even remember my family.”

  Ebba stepped away. “Dry your eyes, and when you’re ready, take in the cookies.”

  “I’m sorry – you must think I’m silly.”

  “Not in the least.” Olivia turned to find Samijo standing in the doorway. “You’re not silly at all.” The woman closed the distance and gave Olivia a big hug. “Merry Christmas.”

  Olivia smiled. She wasn’t expecting this. Of all the Weavers, Samijo and Arlan had seemed the most aloof. “Thank you.” She hugged her back. “Merry Christmas.”

  Samijo released her. “The family’s waiting.”

  Olivia wiped her eyes, picked up the cookies and headed for the parlor.

  * * *

  “Oh, Arlan, what are we doing?” Samijo asked as they trudged through the snow home.

  “What do ya mean?”

  “Olivia. We’re going to have to tell her.”

  “Will we?”

  “How can you not when it’s so important? We know who she is. What she is.”

  “Exactly. And ‘cause of that, I’m perfectly happy lettin’ her find out on her own.”

  “You’re stalling?”

  “Call it what ya want. I’m in no hurry to deal with the Olivia we know again.”

  “I understand – she’s horrid. But I like the woman she is now. I’m starting to like her a lot.”

  Arlan sighed and shifted his sleeping daughter Autumn to his other shoulder. The twins, Justin and Jason, were asleep in Samijo’s arms as they trekked across the snow-covered meadow to home. With the moonlight reflecting off the snow, they could see perfectly well. “I hate to admit it, but I like her too.”

  Samijo giggled. “Does that make us horrible, wishing she would stay this way?”

  “A body can hope, cain’t they?”

  “What if … it’s probably too much to ask, but what if she doesn’t change back? What if she stays this way?”

  “Is that possible?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe we should ask Doc Brown next time we’re in town.”

  “Not sure when that’ll be. If the weather holds, we might make a trip right after New Year’s.”

  She boosted Justin on her left shoulder. At five, the twins were still small enough to manage going back and forth between the two houses. Except when one was trudging through snow. “I’m afraid for her, Arlan.”

  He stopped. “What? For Olivia?”

  “But she’s not Olivia. Not the one we know. This one’s sweet and kind – and frightened.”

  “And settin’ her cap for George Johnson.” Arlan set off again.

  Samijo followed. “I think her feelings toward him are genuine. And he likes her, you know – anyone can see it. He gave her a present tonight.”

  “That’s nice of him.”

  “A small box.”

  “Is that so?” he drawled and gave her a questioning look. “What’s that mind of yers conjuring up?”

  “I don’t know … what if he proposes?”

  “Proposes!” he hissed.

  Samijo did her best to keep up with his longer strides and took a few deep breaths when she did. “Why do I have the twins and you have Autumn?”

  “Just turned out that way. Here, let me have Justin.” He balanced Autumn with one arm, took the little boy in his other and continued on. “George Johnson’s too practical to propose to a woman he barely knows.”

  “I don’t know. Bernice told me this evening he’s marriage-minded. She overheard him tell Warren.”

  “Warren has enough problems right now without worryin’ about his cousin wantin’ a wife.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m talking about Old Man Johnson. He went to bed right after supper.”

  “Not unusual – he is old.”

  Arlan arched an eyebrow and looked at her. “I heard him tell Warren he was goin’ upstairs to have a meetin’ with Albert and Bob.”

  Her jaw went slack. “Oh. I see your point.”

  “Yeah. So trust me when I say, Warren ain’t worryin’ over his cousin right now. Not with his grandpa headin’ round the bend so fast.”

  “Poor Warren and Bernice.”

  “Warren and I had a talk – his main
concern is the old man wanderin’ off and gettin’ hurt.”

  Samijo nodded. “I can understand that.” She saw the light of the lantern they’d left burning in the window and picked up their pace.

  Once they were home, they put the children to bed and got ready themselves. As soon as they had their nightclothes on, Samijo asked, “How long do you think it will take Spencer to find out a few things?”

  “Well, first he has to discover if your Uncle Burr was moved to another prison. It happens, ya know. Then he’ll see if he was released or not or if anything else happened to him. For all we know he’s passed on.”

  She gave him a solemn look. “What do we do in the meantime?”

  He shrugged and pulled her into his arms. “We keep doin’ what we been doin’. Just livin’, darlin’.”

  “I mean with Olivia”

  “Teach her how to cook?”

  She playful slapped him on the arm. “But what about her memory?”

  “Nothin’ we can do there. Best to take Doc Brown’s advice and let it return on its own. ‘Sides, at this point I don’t think she’d believe us if we told her she was … um …”

  “A spoiled, husband-stealing harpy?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’m glad. I know how much animosity there was toward her years ago.”

  “She did almost get us all killed. She only failed ‘cause her pa showed up and insisted she marry your uncle. Then Tom showed up and arrested your uncle.”

  Samijo sighed. “What a mess that was. But it all turned out.”

  “Did it? Think about it. Olivia was forced to marry Burr, which she did ‘cause she thinks he has money. But that money was yer inheritance – it all belonged to you. Olivia got stuck with a man she don’t know, who’s penniless and in prison. What’s she been doin’ all this time? Where’s she been? For all we know, she married someone else.”

  “But she couldn’t have, not when she’s already married to Uncle Burr.”

  “But we don’t know if he’s still alive, or if she divorced him. We don’t know anythin’.”

  “And neither does she,” Samijo added.

  “And there’s yer problem. She could be wanted for murder for all we know.”

  “Arlan!”

  “I’m just sayin’.”