Christmas Miracle 1935

by Rebecca York

  Unfortunately, there was another problem to his objecting. He’d had a legitimate reason for coming to the house. But then he’d been lurking in the hallway while his employer and his wife were having what they thought was a private conversation.

  Fighting the urge to put in his two cents, he silently reversed his steps, headed back to the kitchen and exited through the back door.

  He was still thinking about his mom. Hannah had said she was slowing down, and he’d noticed that, too, although he hadn’t wanted to admit it. You always assumed your parents were going to go on just as they had since you’d been a little kid. But recently he could see the changes in both of them. Probably that was why Matt had made Jack the manager rather than his dad. Plus, of course, he had the math skills to keep the business accounts.

  But he was in charge of the farm, not the house, and he hadn’t felt it was his place to suggest that Momma could use some help. Hannah had stepped in, and under ordinary circumstances he would have thanked her. Usually, her judgment was sound, but he knew she could be swayed by compassion. If she felt sorry for the Garrett family, she’d want to help. He might be forced to protect her from herself—and protect his mother.

  Chapter Four

  Sophie was mopping the floor in the boys’ bedroom when she saw a late-model Ford jouncing up the rutted farm road. Taken by surprise, she felt her stomach clench. Since the night police had come to take her father away, it was an automatic response.

  She might have called out to Momma, but she heard footsteps crossing the wooden floor and knew her mother had already heard the vehicle.

  They glanced anxiously at each other, then both hurried to the front door. Sophie’s heart was pounding, and she saw that the blood had drained from her mother’s face. Neither of them spoke as the car pulled to a stop in the farmyard.

  When a woman got out, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. It wasn’t the cops come to inform them that Daddy had been convicted or something worse. Then she saw that the visitor was Hannah Conway, and her heart began to pound again.

  Mrs. Conway smoothed down her coat and turned to face them as they stepped outside.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.

  “No, ma’am” Momma assured her. “We were just doing some housecleaning.”

  Mrs. Conway’s gaze swung to Sophie. “I talked to my husband about your suggestion,” she said.

  “What suggestion?” Momma demanded.

  “Sophie asked me if we could use some extra help in the kitchen and at the farm,” Mrs. Conway answered.

  “I didn’t know anything about that,” Momma blurted.

  “Sorry,” Sophie murmured, hoping she didn’t look like a kid who’d been found out doing something naughty. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how it was going to come out.”

  Now the woman standing beside the car addressed the elder Garrett. “I hope it won’t be a problem if Sophie comes over to do some work for us. We could pay her the going rate for domestic help.”

  Momma blinked. “You could?”

  “Well, it would be on a trial basis, to see if everything worked out.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t call ahead,” Mrs. Conway apologized.

  “Of course not.” Calling would have been impossible, since they didn’t have a phone.

  “Is it OK to steal her away this morning?” Mrs. Conway asked. “I was thinking I could drive Sophie over so she could help us unpack the groceries and then help Dora prepare the noon meal.”

  Sophie held her breath. Momma couldn’t possibly object, could she? Not when they needed the money.

  “That would be fine,” her mother answered.

  “I don’t know how long we’ll need her. We can see how things work out today, and then go on from there.”

  Sophie turned to her mother. “I’m sorry I took you by surprise.”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  “Just let me grab my coat,” Sophie said.

  She ran back into the house, and when she returned, Momma and Mrs. Conway were talking in low voices.

  “I’m sorry for your troubles,” Mrs. Conway was saying.

  Momma raised her chin. “We’re managing.” Then her tone softened. “Not everyone would hire Sophie under the circumstances.”

  “Some people make unfounded assumptions. Is there any word on your husband’s case?”

  “I wish there were, but we can’t get them to tell us anything.”

  Mrs. Conway nodded, and Sophie hurried down the steps, embarrassed that they had been discussing her father. But it was a fact of their lives now. And at least this woman wasn’t holding it against the family.

  She climbed into the passenger seat of the Ford, and Mrs. Conway slid behind the wheel before starting the engine. The car started with a jerk.

  “Sorry,” she apologized. “I haven’t been driving for long, and I still have trouble with the clutch.”

  As they headed toward Highland Farm, Sophie wasn’t sure what to say. She settled on, “Thank you for trusting me to work at your house, Mrs. Conway.”

  “Please call me Hannah.” She turned toward Sophie. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen”

  “Just a little younger than me.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Have you had a job before?”

  “Only helping Momma around the farm. Jobs are hard to come by these days.”

  “I know.”

  The conversation petered out, and they rode in silence for a few minutes until the horse farm came into view.

  “I can’t always pick you up,” Mrs. Conway—Hannah—remarked.

  “I understand.”

  “Maybe Jack can do some of the driving.”

  “Jack?”

  “Yes, he’s Dora’s son. He’s our manager now.”

  “Oh yes. Right,” she answered, learning that piece of information for the first time. “But it’s not too far to walk,” she added.

  “I know, but it’s better to spend your time working for us than walking.”

  That was logical, and Sophie nodded.

  In the fields along the farm road, several horses were grazing. The circular drive in front of the Conway house was similar to the one at the Garrett house, although this one was wider and paved with gravel rather than dirt. They pulled to a side entrance, and as the car came to a halt, the door opened, and Dora and a cute blond-haired little girl ran out. Mr. Conway’s daughter, Jenny, from his first marriage.

  Sophie had talked to her sometimes when she’d come here. In fact, she’d relayed a lot of information about her life—including the night that the former hired hand had tried to set the stable on fire.

  Often Jenny had her doll speak for her. When she spotted Sophie, she said, “Emeline wants to know what you’re doing here today. Did you bring laundry?”

  “Not today,” she answered as she opened the car door and stepped out. “I’m going to be helping Dora.” She glanced at the older woman, waiting for a response.

  When she answered, “The help will be welcome,” Sophie breathed out a little sigh. Still, she knew she was going to be on probation until she proved herself.

  Hannah walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk, revealing wooden boxes of supplies. And there were more in the back seat.

  As Sophie reached into the trunk to pick up a box, a pair of large, work-roughened hands got there first. She jerked around to see a good-looking man who was a few years older than herself. He wore work clothes and heavy boots.

  His well-shaped lips firmed, and his eyes were assessing as they swept over her.

  Sophie stood her ground at the scrutiny. He didn’t exactly look friendly, and he didn’t introduce himself.

  Was this Jack?

  He silently picked up the heavy box, leaving smaller ones inside the vehicle. Sophie reached for one of those and followed him inside.

  The door led to the kitchen, whic
h was a lot more modern than the one back at her house. She glanced at the range with strange-looking burners. There were no doors for wood compartments under them so the fuel must be something else. Nearby was a large icebox. No, it was probably a refrigerator. At an angle from them was a big sink and drainboard. And on the floor, covering the wooden boards, was a pretty linoleum rug. No groceries were sitting on any of the surfaces.

  She inclined her head toward the load in her arms. “Where should I put this?”

  The man pointed toward a door at the far end of the room. “The pantry is out there.”

  There was already a box sitting on the floor inside, and she put hers beside it. As she returned to the room, Dora came in with another box, and the man gave her a concerned look. “You don’t need to do that, Momma. The new girl and I will do that for you.”

  The new girl?

  “My name is Sophie,” she blurted.

  “Jack,” he said brusquely before turning back to the door.

  She followed him out, returning to the car for another load. As they each took a box, she searched around for something to say. But what? “So, Dora is your mom?” She already knew that.

  Since he didn’t seem inclined to talk to her, she focused on the groceries. He was a lot stronger than she was, and he took the boxes that he knew would be heavy. When they’d finished unloading, he left abruptly. Through the window, she could see him heading for a truck in front of the stable where he began taking wooden boards from the back.

  She wanted to ask if she’d done something to offend him. But probably it was better to leave that alone.

  “Are you all set?” Hannah asked as they were getting started unpacking.

  “Yes,” Dora answered.

  “I have an organizational meeting for the new Christmas Market where women can sell products that they’ve made. I’ll have lunch in Ellicott City, and I’ll be back in the afternoon.” She looked at Sophie. “Since I’ll be gone all afternoon, after you finish with any work Dora has for you, you and Jenny can work on her scrapbook. She’ll show you what to do.”

  Jenny clapped her hands and grinned. “Keen.” Seeing that Sophie was still dressed for the outside, she said. “You can hang your coat on a peg beside the door. Then Emeline and I will show you where everything goes.”

  For the next half hour, Sophie chatted with the little girl while she put away supplies. From outside she heard the sound of someone pounding nails into wood and figured that Jack had gotten to the next stage of the project with the boards she’d seen.

  Dora came in when Sophie was almost finished and looked approvingly at the work.

  “What else can I do?” Sophie asked.

  “You can help me get lunch.”

  It was an easy meal, home-canned stewed tomatoes and sliced cold beef. After they ate, Sophie washed the dishes.

  “What would you like me to do next?” she asked Dora.

  “I was thinking that you could run the vacuum cleaner on the first floor.”

  “You’ll have to show me what to do. We don’t have anything like that.”

  “It’s not hard.”

  Sophie mastered the new piece of equipment, marveling at how it sucked up dirt from the floor—a lot better than using the broom and dustpan she had at home.

  While she did housework, Dora sat at the kitchen table peeling and cutting apples, then putting a pot of apples, water, sugar, and a little cinnamon on to cook.

  The day went quickly. After Sophie finished with the cleaning task, she settled down with Jenny. First the little girl showed her the scrapbooks she’d already made with pictures of children and animals cut from magazine. Then they went on to cut out some new pictures and paste them onto blank pages.

  “Momma and I will put in the words later.”

  “OK.”

  When they’d been working for a while, Sophie heard voices in the kitchen. Dora and a man.

  “Is that your Daddy talking to Dora?” Sophie asked.

  “No. I think it’s Jack.”

  “Does he usually come in during the day?”

  “Unh unh. Maybe he wanted to see you.”

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  “He could be curious—like Emeline.”

  Sophie didn’t press the girl, and in a few minutes, it was clear he had left.

  They had been working for a while when the light suddenly grew dim, Sophie looked toward the window and saw that the sky had darkened.

  A few minutes later, Hannah came running in, her hat and coat wet from the first few drops of rain. Jenny jumped up to show her the new pictures they had put in the book.

  “We had a keen time,” she reported.

  After taking off her coat and hat, Hannah said, “Why don’t the two of you clean up now.”

  “Do we have to?” Jenny objected.

  “Yes. Sophie needs to get home before the storm hits.”

  Sophie took the little girl into the living room where they’d been working.

  “What should we do with the paper scraps?” she asked.

  Jenny pointed to a box by the fireplace. “Daddy will burn them later.”

  After disposing of the debris, she put the magazines back into a pile and put the scrapbook on its shelf.

  When she and Jenny returned to the kitchen, she saw Hanna and Dora talking. About her, she guessed, suddenly alert.

  Chapter Five

  Sophie fixed a neutral expression on her face as she stepped back into the room.

  Hannah gave her a reassuring smile. “Dora says you did a good job today.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Is this working out for you? Do you want to come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow would be fine.”

  Dora picked up a jar of fresh-made applesauce and handed it to Sophie. “Why don’t you take this home with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I only had time to make it because you were doing some of my regular work.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Someone will pick you up around nine,” Hannah said.

  “I can . . .”

  “As I explained earlier, it’s better to spend the time helping us here, than walking. And now it’s definitely raining too hard for you to walk home. But I’m tired out from the meeting. I’ll get Jack to take you back,” she said.

  Sophie didn’t exactly welcome the suggestion. Jack hadn’t been very friendly on their first meeting. She hated the idea of riding with him. But she supposed she didn’t have any choice.

  It was raining harder, and Dora went out with an umbrella to honk the car horn. It must be a signal the household used because a few minutes later, Jack came to the kitchen door.

  “Can you run Sophie home?” Hannah asked.

  Jacked looked like he was as enthusiastic about the idea as she was herself. But he only said, “I’ll bring the truck around.”

  The vehicle that had held the boards earlier pulled up at the side door, and Sophie put on her coat.

  “Take the umbrella,” Hannah said. “Do you have one at home?”

  “No.”

  “Then you can bring it back in the morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  Holding the applesauce in one hand and the umbrella in the other, Sophie made a quick dash to the truck, then had an awkward moment as she had to set the jar down while she struggled to close the umbrella without getting wet. When she’d settled herself, she laid the wet umbrella against the edge of the seat.

  It was dark now. Jack had switched on the headlights, and he leaned forward, driving slowly down the farm road.

  Rain beat down on the roof of the cab, and the wind picked up. Sophie saw small branches flying through the air and hoped they didn’t run into anything bigger. Just her luck, the storm had gotten worse since they’d left the house.

  She gave Jack a sidewise look, seeing the tight muscles of his strong jaw and the way his large hand gripped the wheel. She was sure that he wasn’t happy
about driving through this mess to take the new girl home. And then there was the matter of how he’d reacted to her earlier. She was going to be seeing more of him here, and maybe she should try to get their relationship smoothed out.

  “I’m sorry if I did something to set you off.”

  His head jerked toward her. “What?”

  “When I got to the farm, we got off on the wrong foot. I was wondering why.”

  She saw his hands tighten on the wheel. Finally, he said, “You’re spending all day with my mother.”

  “Yes. I helped her with her work before I entertained Jenny. Is that bad?”

  “No.”

  He stopped at the end of the drive.

  “Do you know where we live?” she asked.

  “Approximately.” Without acknowledging her previous statement, he said, “We had some recent trouble at the farm.”

  “You’re talking about the former handyman who tried to burn down the stable?”

  “What do you know about that?” he demanded.

  “Only what a little chatterbox told me.”

  That earned a small grin from him. “You mean Emeline?”

  “Right. She sees and hears a lot and likes to share information.”

  Still, Sophie knew the attack was nothing to joke about. She dragged in a breath and let it out. “I know that had to be . . . frightening.”

  “We took care of him!”

  “Yes, I know. I hope you’re not putting me into the same category with him.”

  When he didn’t reply, she added, “Give me a chance to prove I’m honest and hardworking. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Fair enough,” he said in a clipped voice. Probably he didn’t like that she’d brought up the subject. But she wasn’t going to apologize for trying to get things straightened out.

  “And give my father the benefit of the doubt,” she murmured under her breath.

  His head swung toward her. “What did you say?”

  Speaking more loudly, she said, “My father isn’t a criminal.”

  “Then why is he in jail?”

  “Because we don’t have the money for bail,” she snapped. More calmly, she added, “He found that jewelry and didn’t know what to do with it.”