By evening, James had improved enough to go home. As he unlocked the heavy front door and entered the hall, he fought the urge to go back to Connie’s cramped little apartment. In less than forty-eight hours, her place seemed more like home than his.
He ambled into the kitchen for a glass of water, and the aroma of beef stew surrounded him. Was Mrs. Cullen back? He peeked into the heavy pot on his stove. A thick stew of beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions simmered. His mouth watered. He turned to the table and found a note propped against a loaf of bread.
James, I knocked but no one answered. You need to regain your strength. Connie
He toyed with the corner of the tablecloth. He hadn’t told her of Mrs. Cullen’s abrupt departure. Kind, generous, wonderful women like Connie didn’t come along every day. He knew it then—he’d given his heart to the widow Simonson.
The next morning, he arrived at the café early. “Good morning, all,” he greeted the other customers. “Fantastic day isn’t it?” The early crowd nodded politely from their tables. Connie glided in from the kitchen, carrying a tray of her famous cinnamon rolls. She stopped short and when her face lit up at his presence, a warm glow spread right down to his toes.
She delivered the rolls to her customers and hurried over to his table. “Look at you. You’re feeling better, aren’t you?”
James stood up. “I am, thanks to your stew and a good night’s sleep. In fact, I feel so much better I’m going back to work. But first, I have a question.” He lowered his voice and scanned the room. No one seemed to be paying any attention. He reached for her hand. “Connie, would you do me the honor of allowing me to call on you? That is, to court you.”
She glanced down at his hand, now warm and firm, then gazed into his eyes. When she smiled and nodded, his pulse jumped. He leaned closer and brushed her cheeks with his lips. “Thank you, my dear.”
Loud clapping broke into their private moment. They jumped apart as Connie’s customers stepped near to them, pounding James on the back. Comments of “it’s about time, Doc,” and “she’s a peach, Doc,” greeted them. He laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while. Connie turned the sweetest shade of pink.
In the days that followed, they managed to find time together even with his busy medical practice and her hours at the café. James rented a sleigh from Paddy Murphy and surprised Connie and Andy with a trip to the Maxwell ranch to visit with Tom and Claire. Andy and Emily played in the barn with the pups and made snow angels in the front yard.
Two nights ago, they had gone caroling with the church choir, and even though his voice was nothing to sing about, he managed not to ruin the tunes and still have a marvelous time. Afterward, the choir was invited back to the café where he and Connie revived the chilled carolers with mugs of hot chocolate and mounds of delicious sugar cookies. That evening, after everyone had left and Andy was tucked into bed, they returned to the kitchen to wash the cups and plates.
James offered to dry, and while Connie was elbow deep in hot suds, he put down the towel and stepped to her side. He placed his hands on her face, turning her head so she faced him. Her brown eyes widened, but she leaned closer. When her eyes closed, he bent and covered her lips with his. The kiss deepened as James moved his hands so one cupped her head and the other supported her shoulder. Time seemed suspended as they tasted one another. When she trembled, he released her. He stepped back and studied her reaction.
This time, she lifted her hands from the soapy water and reached for him. As the water soaked his shirt, she pulled him into an embrace. He shuddered. When they broke apart, both were smiling shyly. It had been a long time for both of them.
“Doctor.” Connie plunged her hands back into the water. “That is a most interesting way to ask for a kiss.” Her lips were red and full, and her eyes were soft and shining.
He smiled back, his heart pounding. This was the same visceral reaction he’d had the day of the party—an intense metabolic reaction that was more than a connection between a man and a woman. “If I’d asked, you might have said no.”
She splashed dishwater his way. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you sleeping on my sofa. You looked so handsome, yet vulnerable. I dared not since you were running a fever.”
He picked up the towel and accepted a clean plate from her. “You’d kiss a sick man? Then you wouldn’t object if I kiss you again?”
She shook her head and a curl bounced above her eyes. “I’d object if you didn’t kiss me again.”
He brushed the curl from her brow. “I give you my solemn word. I will give you a thousand of these.”
She nodded, a twinkle in her eyes. “Just as long as you keep drying the dishes!”
* * *
James shifted in his chair. Yesterday, he had convinced Connie to let Andy play hooky, and the three stole away for a couple of hours of ice skating at Hanscom Park. She and Andy were delighted to see the educated and refined doctor fall on the seat of his pants a number of times until he got the hang of skating over the bumpy ice. By dusk, he was spinning and gliding as though he’d done it all of his life, and he loved it. “Connie,” he’d said. “This crisp air is exhilarating, and I’m famished. I haven’t been so well in years. You, my dear, are the best prescription for me.” She’d giggled, linked her arm in his, and they circled the pond together.
That evening, Connie invited him to stay for dinner and help decorate the café’s Christmas tree. The three of them popped bowls of corn and strung it on long strands of quilting thread. When Andy was caught repeatedly with mouthfuls of the treat, Connie just laughed and made him a special batch dripping with butter. James couldn’t take his eyes off her. The loveliest woman in Omaha sharing this evening and her son with him, and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
As they finished the tree, Connie turned to her son. “Andy-pandy, it’s well past your bedtime.” Andy, eyes drooping from their busy day, hugged her tightly and stumbled off to bed.
Connie then handed James a framed copy of Thomas Nast’s Santa Claus and asked him to hang it on the wall. The last time he’d seen one of these had been during the war. President Lincoln had commissioned Nast to draw pictures of Santa posing with Union soldiers. As an Army surgeon, James treated numerous Confederate prisoners. On Christmas Day, 1864, a prisoner, lonely and scared, languished in the hospital ward. Hoping to cheer him up, he’d given the boy the Harper’s Christmas issue to pass the time. When the soldier threw down the magazine and cried, James picked it up. The southerner had thought even Santa was against Johnny Reb.
James shook off the memory and smiled back at Connie who was looking at him with brows knit. He reached out and took her hand. “I was just thinking back to a time when Christmas wasn’t as nice as it is this year.” He bent to her and kissed her gently.
From behind them he heard “Ewww.”
“Young man, what are you doing out of bed?” Connie jumped up, hands on hips.
“I forgot sumthin’.” The boy slipped over to James and hugged him soundly. “Night, James.”
Touched to his soul, he hugged the boy back. “Night, son,” he’d whispered, as love, peace, and joy filled his heart.
Today, sitting at his desk, tea in hand, his mind spun. I love this woman and her boy. I can’t replace Percy, but I can be a faithful husband and father. Will they let me? Yes, it’s a risk, but I need them, and I think they need me. God in heaven, is this what You want of me?
He waited. Again, love, peace and joy filled his heart. He had his answer. He’d ask Connie to be his wife. No one, not even Phoebe, made him feel as alive and special as Connie Rose Simonson. He smiled. Connie Connor. Doesn’t sound too bad. James and Connie Connor. He rather liked the sound of that. Would she?
He jumped up and strode into the waiting room. It was mercifully empty. Arianna looked up from her desk where she’d been transcribing his notes. “Doc, you need anything?”
He grinned. “Yes, I do. I’ll be back shortly.” He grabbed his coat fr
om the hook on the wall and flew out the front door, whistling Amazing Grace.
He ran the three blocks to the café’s back door, letting himself in. The cook stood over a big pot. The aroma of vegetable beef soup tickled his nose. “Hello, Doris. Connie here?”
Doris looked up. “Sure, she’s in the storeroom.” Thanking her, he stepped into the small storeroom, closing the door behind him. Connie looked up from her inventory list, a puzzled look on her pretty face. “Hello, James.”
He slid up to her, cupped her face, and slanted his lips over hers. His heart raced as she returned the kiss. He released her. “My dear, if St. Nicolas brought you a very special gift, would you accept it?” Her skin, so smooth, so soft, smelled of vanilla and lavender. He drank in the scent of her, the sight of her.
“Depends.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Is St. Nicolas tall, lean, and silver-haired with warm lips?”
He chuckled and lowered his mouth to hers. “Could be.” He kissed her again. When they reluctantly pulled apart, James cupped her shoulders and looked deep into her rich brown eyes. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve…may I come by? I have something to discuss with you. I thought we’d go to evening services and then sit by the fire and talk.”
She nodded. “Yes, come for supper with Andy and me first.”
He swallowed. He’d be with a family at Christmas. If things went the way he prayed, they’d be his family before too long. His heart filled with so much joy there wasn’t room for any doubt.
Chapter Twelve
After a long but satisfying day, Connie stepped inside the doorway of her small apartment above the café. Her staff would cover the evening shift, and she and Andy would spend a rare evening together. She plunked down on the bench to remove her boots as Andy barreled from his room holding a carrot, an old scarf, and three pieces of coal. “Mrs. Dawson is coming over. Can I go outside and play with Ben when they get here?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s all right. Just stay in the yard. It will be dark soon. When are they coming?” She stood with her boots in one hand and longed for a cup of tea. She’d been promising herself one all afternoon. A knock on the door behind her startled her.
Andy bent his head, peeking at her. She turned to open it. “Guess now, Ma.”
Margaret stood there shyly. Ben and Andy whooped. Connie smiled at their enthusiasm. A thick new blanket of snow covered the ground, and she guessed they were going to build a snowman.
“Come in, please. Can I offer you anything to drink? I was about to enjoy a pot of tea.” She glanced at the work boots in her hand and turned to tuck them under the bench. “Sorry, I came upstairs only a moment ago.”
“No, thank you. I’m sorry to disturb you. I just want to talk for a moment.” She shifted a satchel from one shoulder to the other. They sat down in the cozy parlor, and Connie tucked her stockinged feet under her while Margaret fussed with adjusting her skirts. Finally, she looked over. “I want to tell you what happened last night. It was so odd. Remember that one of the decisions you and I made was that any leftover food that wouldn’t keep should go home with me?”
Connie nodded. She kept seeing the thin Dawson children hunched over bowls of soup. She wasn’t about to let them go hungry. It wasn’t how she was brought up. It wasn’t the Christian way. She hoped the five growing children in the Dawson household were making very good use of the extra provisions.
“The cupboard is over-flowing. When I asked Diana about it, she would only smile and say she had a knack for stretching food. Anyway, I didn’t want to confront her, but it reminded me of the biblical story where Jesus turned a few loaves of bread and fish into enough to serve a mass of hungry people.”
Connie interrupted her. “There can’t be that much extra food. Whoa—did you say your boarder’s name is Diana?”
“Why yes, you sent her to me.” Margaret brushed a wispy strand of hair off her cheek.
“But I don’t know anyone named Diana. I didn’t send anyone to you.” Connie’s mind raced. Could it be the same Diana James mentioned? But he had a fever that night. I thought he was delirious. “Go on, please.”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “She’d made a pot of ham hocks and bean soup. She said on a cold day like today, it would stick to our ribs. Wait. What do you mean you didn’t send her to me?” She plucked a string off the chair’s arm, stared at it intently, then lifted her gaze to Connie. “You must have. She said she came from Rose’s Café.”
Connie shook her head. “I didn’t send her. I don’t know anyone named Diana. Go on.” She sat up straighter as a chill ran down her spine.
“So I said, ‘Diana you’re an angel.’” Margaret rubbed the thread between her fingers. “She just smiled at me and jangled her bell bracelet. I asked her how long she’d worked for you. She said it was only a short time and that someone sent her. I assumed it was you.” Margaret looked back at Connie curiously. “She told me I would figure it out.” Margaret reached for her satchel and set a Bible on her lap. “I’d been reading Psalms all week and picked up my Bible to continue, but now the page was turned to Mathew 6:14-15. So I read aloud, ‘For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.’ I looked over at Diana, and she continued from memory, ‘But if you do not forgive men their sins your Father will not forgive you.’ You see, I’d been feeling guilty about cheating you and for my brother-in-law’s evil ways.”
Margaret’s eyes filled. “I have my answer. I can no longer blame others for my situation. I can’t survive alone, but with God’s help I’ll support myself and my children. He’s...” She hiccupped and wiped away a tear. “He’s already helped me. He brought me this job working for you. We have a plan to carry on, and He brought me a caretaker for the children when I needed one. My family and I can begin to heal from the loss of my husband and their father.”
Goose bumps crawled down Connie’s arms as she dropped her eyes to Margaret’s Bible. “May I borrow this a moment?” Flipping quickly, she came to Hebrews 13:2. She read aloud, “Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it.” Is Diana an angel?
Her mind spun with the wonder of God, His creations, and the mysteries of the universe. She squeezed Margaret’s hand. “My friend, God has angels to act as messengers. Maybe Diana has been brought here to remind us to trust in Him and to help us. Surely He has a soft spot for widows and mothers. I heard a message one night to listen for bells. I didn’t know what that meant. The bells could be the signal that His angels are watching over us.”
“I think you’re right. With your permission, I’d like to drop the charges against my brother-in-law. Christmas is a time for new beginnings.”
Connie stood, opened her arms, and the two young widows embraced. This season was a new beginning for everyone.
Chapter Thirteen
Connie stepped back to admire her work. Rose’s Café was ready for Christmas. All the usual checkered tablecloths were switched out with solid red and green ones. Wreaths hung above the counter and menu board, and each table sported a beeswax taper nestled in a brass candlestick.
The overhead bells rang as Claire stepped in from the cold. “I heard you were decorating. I came by to see what you’re doing and if you’ve got any more of those Christmas cookies. This place looks really nice, festive too.” She sniffed. “Is that gingerbread? Please say so.”
Connie nodded. “Yup. I just pulled a batch out. Thanks, I’m copying what Margaret did over at Wild Rose’s. She’s so talented. She sewed the table coverings for both restaurants. Said her new boarder helped.” Connie grasped her friend’s hand. “Do you have a minute to visit? I have so much to tell you.”
“Sure. Let’s sit down. Josie’s covering the store. She’ll be fine for a while.” Claire fingered the fabric on the table. “Hey, this is the fabric from my bargain bin. I saw someone bought it. It looks nice done up this way. You said Margaret Dawson did this?”
“Yes, and s
howed me how to make wreaths from those straggly evergreens out back. I added some pinecones and the red ribbon. Nice, huh?” She poured two cups of coffee and placed a dish of warm gingerbread cookies on the table. “She’s amazing. Ever since J.J. stopped harassing her about ruining my business, she’s gone overboard to make sure Wild Rose’s does well.”
“And is it? Doing well, I mean.” Claire nibbled on a cookie. ”You have got to give me this recipe. My kids keep snitching the ones I set out in the store for customers.”
Connie nodded. “Yes, it’s finally doing the business I estimated it would. She seems to have a real way with the customers, and we hired a cook to help her out. It helps me too, because the new gal has taken on most of the baking for both places.” She sipped from the mug. “It’s so wonderful to sleep in every morning and have breakfast with Andy. Imagine. I don’t rise until six a.m. I’m such a slugabed.”
“The sleep is doing wonders for you. You haven’t looked this rested in a long while.” Claire grinned at her friend. “I imagine having the attention of the handsomest doctor in town doesn’t hurt either.” They bent their heads together and giggled like young girls.
“The only doctor in town, but he is rather attractive. So unlike my Percy, but still charming. Am I being foolish? After all, I haven’t had a lot of experience with men.” She wrapped her hands around the sturdy coffee mug and stared at her best friend for validation.
“No. How is it foolish to be courted by a kind and intelligent man? He’s crazy about Andrew, and from what I’ve seen, he’s crazy about you too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks for your hand in marriage.” Claire gazed off into space. “A winter wedding would be fun to plan.”
“Do you really think he’s interested in marriage? We’ve only kept company a short time.” Connie jumped up and looked around. No one else was in the café to overhear. “I really like him, but marriage is a big step.”
Christmas Bells (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Page 8