The Hope of Christmas Past

by Stephenia H. McGee

  What? Isla looked down at her long nightgown. What was the big deal? But her need to find a bathroom outweighed any argument, and she allowed Ella to guide her back into the bedroom.

  “The bathroom. You know. The place with a shower, tub, and toilet? You have those, don’t you?”

  Ella stood in the doorway with her forehead crinkled. “Yes, we do have a bathing room. It’s located by my daughters’ rooms.” She crinkled her nose. “But I’m afraid you’ll need to wait for a bath until this evening. We haven’t had any water heated this morning.”

  “I don’t need a bath.” A shower would have been nice. “I need to, well, you know, use the bathroom.”

  Ella stared at her. “But you just said you didn’t need a bath.”

  “Ugh.” Isla threw up her hands. “I have to pee!”

  Ella blinked, swallowed, then blinked again. Her cheeks reddened. “If you need to relieve yourself, there is a chamber pot in your room.”

  “That’s gross.” As soon as the words slipped out, she regretted them. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She shifted her feet. “I mean, I’m just used to using a toilet.”

  “Forgive me. I’m sure you have many things in your time that we may not.” She dipped her chin. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to let the family know you will join us shortly.”

  She closed the door. Isla hadn’t meant to be rude. After a few seconds of debate, she finally resigned herself to the use of the chamber pot.

  After that and washing her hands with water she had to pour from the pitcher into the bowl and then pour again in order to rinse off the strong-smelling soap, Isla picked up the brown dress she’d dropped on the floor.

  Ella hadn’t given her any underwear. Of course she wouldn’t. Who would want someone else to borrow their underwear? She probably figured Isla would just wear what she already had. But, the painting hadn’t given her anything but this long dress and the lacy pants. Well, there had been that corset thing wrapped around her middle, but why would she need that? She was plenty thin already. She tossed that on the bed.

  Isla tugged the tight dress down over her head, glad to find this one also had buttons on the front. If they had been in the back she would have needed help. That’s probably what Ella had meant. She buttoned them from her waist all the way up to her throat. Then she had to button the tight cuffs along her wrists.

  What else?

  No need for that extra skirt she’d had yesterday. That was just clunky. She ran her fingers through her hair. No one had given her a comb. Or worse, a toothbrush. Or deodorant. Isla groaned. What a mess.

  Nothing more she could do about it. Better not keep everyone waiting too long. She hurried downstairs and into the dining room.

  As soon as Isla crossed into the room Ella yelped and leapt from her chair, sending it screeching across the wooden floor. Isla froze. Ailsa and Matilda gasped. Westley and Lee jumped to their feet and immediately turned their backs on her.

  What in the world?

  Ella and her daughters rushed to Isla in a swarm of colorful fabric. One of them clutched her by the elbow. They hauled her up the stairs, made the turn at the landing, and then all but dragged her back into her room.

  Ailsa closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her cheeks inflamed. “Oh, my!”

  Matilda burst into laughter while Ella shook her head. Isla backed away from them, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

  She clenched her hands. “What?”

  Matilda grinned and bounded across the room, latching onto Isla’s arm. “Did you see Lee’s face? Why, it was priceless!”

  Isla stared at her.

  “Matilda!” Ella barked. “That’s improper.”

  Matilda huffed and stepped away. “Oh, fiddle. It was hilarious, and you know it.”

  Ailsa offered Isla a warm smile and placed a gentle hand on Isla’s shoulder. “Miss Laird, I’m not certain how things are done where you come from, but here, a lady doesn’t present herself in public without her underpinnings and with her hair unbound. It isn’t proper.”

  Ella scrubbed a hand down her face. “I’m the one at fault. I should have stayed to help her dress.”

  What? She looked down at the brown dress. Underpinnings? What did that mean? And if they were supposed to be under anything, how did they know? She’d kept the lacy pants so she’d have on something underneath. Her face warmed. But she hadn’t worn a bra. The dress was so thick and her figure so slight, she hadn’t thought anything of it.

  Too embarrassed to say a word, Isla allowed the three to usher her behind the dressing screen to put on another nightgown. When she came back out, they then wrapped the corset around her and laced it up tight.

  “This will help you keep a proper posture,” Ella explained, “as well has make sure the dress fits properly.”

  Next came the heavy skirts Ailsa called petticoats.

  “The petticoats give fullness to your dress and complete a finished look.”

  “Why didn’t you give her a bustle, mother? A young lady should be in fashion, even at home.” Ailsa eyed Isla and tapped a finger on her chin. “She’s not that much thinner than I, and I’ll venture she can wear one of my gowns instead of that ancient thing you gave her.”

  Ella scrunched her nose. “Ancient? Listen to you.”

  “Um, no bustle, please.” Isla looked between the two. “The brown dress is fine.”

  Ailsa shrugged, and Ella grabbed the gown from the back of a chair. After being pulled, stuffed, and cinched, the three women finally declared her suitable.

  Isla turned to the mirror. The Remington women had her layered in enough fabric to make a polar bear sweat. No wonder these people survived in the winter without central heat.

  “Now.” Matilda grinned. “I’ll do your hair.”

  Ella guided her to the dressing table and gestured toward a straight-backed chair. Isla plopped into it. No wonder they had perfect posture. She could hardly move in this getup.

  She waited while the three of them debated over what to do with her hair. Why all the fuss? Isla started to twist it into a braid when Matilda noticed.

  “No, no. That won’t do.”

  Giving up, she watched as they tugged, twisted, and piled until she had an elaborate bun on the top of her head. Finally, the three women stepped back to eye her. Feeling like a puppy being inspected at the pound, Isla remained still under the scrutiny, her fingernails digging into the course fabric of the dress.

  “There.” Ella smiled. “Much better.” She clapped her hands together. “Come, girls. Basil will be having a fit over a cold breakfast.”

  They marched out of the room, leaving Isla to stand there in her old-fashioned costume and wonder what could possibly go wrong next.

  The house smelled like Christmas. The warm scents of cookies, hot cocoa, and evergreen branches filled the air. Isla carried the prickly green branches in her arms across the foyer. Everything felt strange and foreign, but at the same time comfortable.

  What would it be like to simply stay here? They would accept her into the family. At least she was pretty sure they would. It would take some getting used to. But it would solve her problem of not knowing what to do with her life after her birthday. She could just live with Ella, helping her around Belmont.

  A feminine voice drew her attention. From the music room? She set the branches on the foyer table and stepped across the threshold. The room stood empty. Weird. She was sure she’d heard someone.

  “I’m worried. What if something happened to her?”

  The familiar voice quickened Isla’s pulse. “Jody?”

  She dashed into the room and to the painting. The tree had disappeared. Instead, the painting transformed into some type of window that looked directly back into the music room. Jody stood with Camille, the B&B lady. They both looked upset.

  “Jody!” Isla called.

  Neither woman responded. Could they not hear her as she could hear them? She placed her hand to the painting.


  Nothing.

  She knocked. Neither woman noticed.

  Tears streaked down Jody’s face. “I was hoping we could spend a wonderful Christmas together.” Her voice hitched. “I thought maybe we could bond over cookies or something.”

  Camille placed a comforting hand on Jody’s shoulder, concern filling her eyes.

  Isla knocked on the painting. “I’m here, Jody!”

  But they couldn’t hear her.

  “I wanted us to be family, you know?” Jody swiped her eyes. “She’s had a hard life. I have too. I thought maybe…” Jody shook her head and let the sentence fall away. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I wanted to show her this. The judge approved an adoption.” She heaved a sigh. “But I guess I’m not the mother she wants.”

  Jody wanted to adopt her? Even though she was about to age out? Isla pressed her forehead against the glass. Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find her.”

  “I’m here,” Isla whispered.

  The scene became blurred like when rain pelted a window. The voices from inside the painting faded away.

  The swish of skirts alerted her to someone’s presence, but Isla kept her hand on the painting.

  “What happened?” Ella asked.

  Isla lifted her head, unsurprised to see the painting had returned to normal. “I heard my… mom.” The word felt foreign on her tongue, but somehow so right. Jody wanted to adopt her. She wanted to be a family. “She’s worried about me.”

  Ella rubbed the back of Isla’s shoulders. “But it didn’t let you through?”

  “No. They couldn’t even hear me.”

  “She must care for you very much.”

  “And I’ve done nothing but push her away.”

  Ella stepped back and wiped a tear from Isla’s cheek. “Why is that?”

  She lifted her shoulders, even though she knew the answer. If she kept people at a distance, then she could protect herself. But, had that cost her a new life with Jody?

  Ella waited, her expression gentle. Instead of answering Ella’s question, Isla asked one of her own. “Why did you take in a baby that wasn’t yours?”

  “Because he needed me and I loved him.”

  No hesitation. She’d loved him, and that was that. But Isla wasn’t a cute little baby like Lee had been. She was an almost eighteen-year-old who was acting like a brat. But Jody wanted her anyway. Time-traveling through a painting paled in comparison to that miracle.

  “Did you love him as much as your own children?” A rude question, she knew. And not at all polite to ask. But she needed to know. “Even though he wasn’t yours?”

  Ella pulled Isla toward the small couch by the wall. “Family is many things. You don’t need to share blood, only the heart.” She squeezed Isla’s hand and tugged her down to the couch.

  The fears she’d kept buried bubbled up within her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Guilt warred with hope. She shifted on her seat and looked down at her hands, unable to meet Ella’s gaze. “But…if Jody adopts me and officially becomes my mom, then won’t I be betraying my parents?”

  “Why?”

  Isla stared at her. It seemed pretty obvious.

  “You don’t think you can both love the parents you lost and the mother God has given you? Why must one replace the other?”

  Isla hadn’t thought of it like that.

  “Something to think on, yes?” She patted Isla’s hand.

  “Yes.” A weight shifted off of her heart. She drew a deep breath and expanded her lungs. How could a single word shatter so many bindings that she suddenly felt free again?

  “Now.” Ella gave her a squeeze and then looked back at the painting. “I think we are uncovering some of the heart lessons you needed.” She glanced at the painting. “But maybe not all. Since it didn’t open for you to return, then it’s not yet time to leave.”

  Isla pinched her lips. She had to admit, her short time here had been more liberating than the last two years of therapy. But what else did she have to learn before she went home?

  Ella smiled sweetly. “I suggest you pray over the information you’ve been given and ask the Father what He wants you to learn from it.”

  So straightforward. Simple. The thought made her smile. “I’ll try my best.”

  Christmas Eve. Isla sat in front of the fire in the ladies’ parlor and twisted her fingers. Her third day at the wrong Belmont. She’d prayed. A lot. And she had to admit, she felt more at peace. Her heart and mind more clear. But even though the past couple of days had been filled with laughter and joy being with Ella and her family, the ache in her heart only grew.

  Matilda hummed as she placed another trinket on the tree in the corner already filled with ribbons, lace ornaments, and walnuts that had been painted gold. Isla didn’t feel like decorating anymore. She should have been doing these things with Jody.

  Instead of the joyous holiday Jody had planned, the poor woman had spent the days worrying over where Isla had gone.

  Please let Jody be okay.

  Isla rose and strode across the thick carpet, guilt and worry once again tugging her to the music room. But the painting remained closed.

  She sighed. Lord, whatever lesson you need me to learn, please show it to me and let me get back to Jody before Christmas. She deserves better than this.

  “Isla?” Matilda’s voice drifted through the house. “Where are you?”

  Isla cast one last look at the painting before stepping out into the front hall. “I’m here.”

  Matilda beamed. “Come.” She grabbed Isla’s hand as if they were old friends. “We’re making bannocks and Mama’s special tablets!”

  “Tablets?” Like an iPad? “What’s that?”

  “The sweetest sugary treat you’ve ever tasted.”

  An uneasy feeling squirmed in her stomach, but Isla forced it away. “Okay. But I’ll just watch.”

  The girl seemed confused but didn’t respond. Instead, she led Isla through the parlors, into the dining room, and then out another door. Cold wind blasted her in the face. Isla paused. “Wait.” She squinted up at the dreary gray clouds. “Is that snow?”

  Matilda paused. “What?” She peered up at the sky. “We hardly ever get snow, and never this early.”

  Isla stared at the sky, and, sure enough, thick flakes began to fall. Matilda giggled and rushed toward the summer kitchen calling for her mother and sister. They gathered on the covered walkway between the dining room and the kitchen watching thick flakes stick on the ground.

  “Oh, how lovely!” Ella reached out a hand and caught one of the flakes. It melted on her fingertips.

  They watched for a little while longer until Ella clapped her hands and declared they better get to work or there would be no treats for Christmas.

  They passed through another door and entered a snug little kitchen slightly removed from the rest of the house. The hearth crackled with a roaring fire. The cook, Basil, sang Angels We Have Heard on High with gusto. The lady, who came during the day to help around the house and cook the meals, filled any space despite her slim stature. Her dark hair was hidden beneath a bright red scarf, and her warm hickory cheeks bunched with a joyful smile.

  “Basil, darling, shouldn’t you be getting home?” Ella took a rag from Basil and then put a hand on her hip. “You know your family will be waiting on you. And Sibby will have a conniption if you don’t hurry.”

  Basil grinned. “I was just finishin’ up.” She gestured toward a covered basket. “Made sugar cookies for the littles.”

  “Delightful.” Ella picked up the basket, handed it to the young woman, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Now be gone with you.”

  Basil laughed. “You sure you’re all right without me?”

  Ella gestured to her daughters, who were already covered in flour, and then to Isla. “I have plenty of help. Enjoy your family.” She opened the door. “But you be sure to bring those b
abies up to see me tomorrow.” She winked. “I have something for them.”

  The woman marveled at the snow and then hurried out of the door, muttering something about crossing the creek. She closed the door behind her, leaving the others to their tasks. Sweet smells filled the space as flour dusted nearly every surface.

  Matilda handed Isla an apron and then tied her own around her waist. “I’ll show you how to mix the tablets.”

  Not wanting to be rude, Isla wrapped the apron around her and tugged a bow behind her back but remained in the corner by the door. “You go ahead. I’ll just watch.”

  Ella laughed. “Nonsense. We have too much to do.” She gestured toward a big metal stove. “Grab a towel and pull out the bannock for me. It should be ready.”

  Isla hesitated. She hadn’t tried to do anything in the kitchen since she’d started a fire at her first foster home. The mom there had called her irresponsible. And she’d been right. Isla had let her mind wander while trying to fry bacon. The grease fire had cost both a new set of upper cabinets and her placement in the house.

  Isla couldn’t cause trouble for these people. Not after they’d been so nice to her. All she had to do was make sure she focused. No daydreaming.

  Determined, she took the thick cloth Ella handed her and scooted around a large table, her long skirts swishing across the top of her buttoned boots.

  Jody had wanted them to make cookies together. The thought brought a wave of guilt. What was Jody doing now?

  Isla grabbed the handle of the iron stove and pulled the door open. A blast of heat hit her in the face and she blinked. A fire glowed inside. How did they create the right temperature in such a primitive oven?

  She folded the towel multiple times and used it to grab the edge of the pan, pulling it free and then setting it on top of the stove. It contained a round, flat bread that resembled cornbread. She leaned closer, breathing in the earthy scent. Peace settled on her. It felt good to be surrounded by a family cooking a Christmas meal together while singing—

  “Isla!” Ailsa screeched, causing Isla to jump back.

  The girl lurched forward, grabbing at Isla’s dress. Only then did she notice the smoke rising from her apron. Terror surged in her chest as a small flame crawled its way up the front of her long skirt.