Cascades Christmas

by Mildred Colvin

  Papa knocked on the door.

  Someone else would answer. She was sure of it.

  But Willum opened the door and smiled. “Reverend. Natalie.

  What brings you out here?”

  Her hands began to shake. She fisted them to make them stop then gripped one in the other, but they still shook. She followed Papa through the doorway.

  Papa removed his hat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. The building fund was stolen this afternoon.”

  Natalie gazed around the even smaller interior. Two narrow sets of bunk beds lined each side wall with clothes and tools on three of the mattresses. A small table with two three-legged stools, a potbelly stove with Sassy curled up next to it, and a small bookshelf crammed with books made up the rest of the furnishings. One window, no curtain.

  Willum said, “That’s terrible. Who did it? Did they catch him?”

  She faintly heard Papa and Willum’s voices and tried to draw air into her lungs, but they refused to cooperate.

  Papa shook his head. “Mr. Whitworth and I were tied up. We had a terrible time getting free. By the time we did, the man was long gone.”

  She wiped her moist palms down her skirt. Was the room shrinking? She’d been locked in here before. It hadn’t been her fault.

  The lights began to dim.

  Natalie blinked several times. Papa and Willum looked down on her, their voices muffled. They both looked quite concerned. Suddenly their voices returned.

  Papa’s eyebrows were knitted together. “Are you all right?”

  Willum shook his head. “I think she’s confused.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not confused.” But she was. She just didn’t want to admit it. What was going on?

  Willum pulled on her arm. “Can you sit up?”

  Papa lifted her at her shoulder.

  She wasn’t sitting? Mercy. She was lying down. On Willum’s bunk! Double mercy.

  Not only did she sit up in haste but got to her feet.

  Willum grabbed her arm. “Whoa. You aren’t too steady yet.”

  Papa had hold of her other arm, and she swayed between the two. “Maybe you should sit back down.”

  “No. I’m fine.” The walls moved. Or did they?

  Papa tightened his hold on her arm. “You fainted. You are not fine. Sit.”

  She waved a hand toward the door. “A little fresh air and I’ll be fine.”

  Sucking in the cool night air in several long breaths revived her like a slap and brought her back to her senses. Mostly. She still felt weak-kneed, but she could breathe. She drew in another long breath.

  Papa kept hold of her arm. “If I had known you were feeling ill, I wouldn’t have brought you.”

  Yes, ill. That could be what it was. But she knew better. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

  Willum said, “Should I get a wagon to take her home?”

  “I’ll be fine.” If she said it enough times, maybe she would believe it.

  Chapter 6

  Natalie pulled her shawl tighter around her against the damp air that promised rain as she walked down the opposite side of the street from the house Willum worked on occasionally. Was he there today? She heard no pounding or sawing. The house would be quite nice if he ever finished it. It sat in a semi-prominent location. It would be nothing to the grandeur of the Whitworth home that held the place of prominence. But it had a grandness in its own right.

  No wonder Willum was penniless and lived in a shack. He couldn’t even finish a simple house in a timely manner. He’d finished the roof, put in windows, and painted the outside her favorite color, a cheerful butter yellow. But the porch had not been put on yet—the extravagant wraparound one. And she was sure the inside still needed walls and upper floors.

  He’d managed to complete a building for three businesses in no time with a crew. Why didn’t he hire a crew for this house and be done with it, so the man and his wife could move in? And he could get paid for his work.

  She was sounding petty. She had nothing against people of diminished means. She just didn’t want to be one again. She tried not to think of those black years in her life. She was grateful for all the Lord had given her and didn’t want to lose it. She was selfish and petty.

  And ashamed.

  She hurried on to the mercantile, hoping not to run into Willum. She’d felt too sick for Sunday supper this week and had stayed in her room. But she knew her nausea was from nerves. Though her stomach was a little unsettled again on Wednesday, she forced herself to the table, grateful for the distraction of Abigail. David, of all people, had invited her. He smiled at her all through supper. Smitten beyond belief. She’d felt that way about Willum. Only just last week. She still did, didn’t she?

  The bell over the door jingled. She made a quick scan of the interior and breathed easier. Until she sorted out this gnawing in the pit of her stomach, she would rather not see Willum.

  She quickly gathered the items Mama needed, paid, and stepped out onto the boardwalk. A light mist caressed her face. She wouldn’t be arriving home dry. She had better hurry for many reasons.

  A covered buggy stopped in front of the mercantile. John Seymour smiled at her and jumped down. “Let me get those for you.” He took her parcel and shopping basket, placing them on the floor of his buggy. He held his hand out to her. “It looks like rain. Let me give you a ride.”

  It was an innocent enough invitation. And it did look and feel like rain. Almost drizzling already.

  She stared at his proffered hand then took it. Immediately, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she’d made the wrong choice. A large round raindrop splattered on the back of her glove, then her cheek and her nose. Instinct—and Mr. Seymour—propelled Natalie into the buggy.

  Mr. Seymour raced around the buggy and jumped aboard, half soaked. He laughed as he shook off some of the rain. “That was close.”

  She laughed, too.

  Her sinking feeling dissuaded for the moment.

  Willum stood in the shadows of the livery, watching Natalie with John Seymour. Laughing. John obviously had no compunction about escorting another man’s girl without his permission.

  He hadn’t thought Natalie flighty. He’d seen her walk into town, stop and gaze at the house, then continue on to the mercantile. He’d watched every graceful step she took, like a hummingbird floating.

  He’d seen the look on her face when she visited his pocket-sized, boxy cabin. He’d never thought she would ever have an opportunity to see it. He’d made his place small to discourage visitors, squeezing in bunk beds for his friends when they came to town from the logging camp. When he’d come to Tumwater, he wanted to be left alone and cloistered himself away to heal. It had worked. As time passed he became more and more involved in the town, looked forward to Wednesday supper with the reverend and his family. Looked forward to young Natalie’s smile and laugh. Now she was laughing for another man.

  He tossed the reins of the surrey he’d rented back to the livery owner. “Here, Ulysses. I won’t be needing this.” He’d planned to escort Natalie home so she wouldn’t get wet.

  Ulysses dug in his pocket.

  Willum waved a hand at him. “Keep it.”

  “But you paid for an hour.”

  Willum turned up the collar on his coat and stepped out into the downpour.

  Natalie sat in a rocking chair by the fire, knitting.

  Mama sat across from her, also knitting. “You’re quiet.”

  She looked up. “Am I?” She’d been lost in her regrets about accepting a ride from Mr. Seymour. He’d been cordial and behaved like a perfect gentlemen, telling her how lovely she looked and how it was his pleasure to escort her home. It hadn’t been a pleasure at all. It had been dishonest.

  “Mama? If you do something and later realize it might have been wrong but no one got hurt or even knows about it, do you still have to tell anyone?”

  “God knows about it.”

  God knows.

  That pricked her heart.
“So confession to God would be enough?”

  Mama rested her knitting in her lap and looked straight at her. “If someone else were to find out, would it hurt them?”

  But it was an innocent buggy ride to stay out of the rain. How could that hurt anyone?

  David burst through the door. He held out a wad of cloth. “Would a girl like this?”

  By “a girl” Natalie knew he meant Abigail.

  Mama unwrapped the gift. A hair comb. More than modest but nowhere near extravagant. It had tiny pearls along the front edge. “This is lovely.” She looked up at her son. “You haven’t been courting her long. Are you sure about this?”

  Mama was being nice. David had only asked to court Abigail last week. But he was besotted.

  “Is it too soon?”

  “I think maybe just a bit.”

  David smiled. “Then I’ll hold onto it. But I’ll have it for when the time is right.”

  Natalie held out her hand. “May I see it?”

  David transferred the comb from Mama’s hand to hers like he was entrusting her with a delicate flower that would wilt upon a single breath grazing it.

  A bit of envy pricked Natalie’s heart. David had bought a girl he’d only just started courting a gift. Willum had never bought her anything.

  The downpour had settled into a steady, gentle rain. Willum had arrived in town three years ago in the rain. It was only fitting that he left that way.

  He’d stopped by the house and collected his tools. He secured a tarp around the top of his open toolbox to keep the rain out. He stuffed the rest of his belongings in his knapsack and tied on his rolled-up blankets and pillow. He glanced around the boxy room, sorry he couldn’t take his books. Closing the door behind him, he set out. He turned to Sassy and slapped his thigh. “Come on, girl.”

  He stopped by Frederick’s and knocked.

  “Come in out of that rain.”

  Willum shook his head. “I don’t want to make a mess of Emma’s floor.”

  Frederick eyed Willum’s knapsack and toolbox. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “It’s time.”

  Frederick lowered his voice. “What about Natalie?”

  “She’s found someone else.”

  Frederick’s mouth fell open. “Can’t be.”

  “She was riding in his buggy. Quite close and laughing.”

  Frederick grabbed his coat from the peg near the door and shoved one arm in. “Who is it? Let’s have a talk with him.”

  Willum shook his head. “I only came to tell you that I left my books at the cabin. They are yours. Please take them.”

  Frederick shook his head. “No. You’ll come back. You have to come back.”

  He’d let his friend believe what he wanted. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Tuck? E.V.?”

  “You can tell them but not any of your wives.”

  Frederick let his coat slide off his arm and onto the floor. “This isn’t the way you should be leaving. Where will you go? Back to Seattle?”

  “Not Seattle. I’ll find someplace. Someplace with no women.”

  “Where would that be? The North Pole?”

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  Frederick held out his hand. “Let me know when you get settled.”

  Willum shook it and left.

  Chapter 7

  Willum tossed his knapsack on the bed of the boardinghouse. He’d managed to gain Sassy a warm place by the kitchen stove by agreeing to do a few repairs for the woman who ran the place. He was more than happy to help out.

  Tomorrow, he would get a list from her and start. But for now, he just wanted to rest. Exhausted, he sprawled out on the bed and closed his eyes.

  “Build My house.”

  Willum sat straight up. It was dark outside. He must have fallen asleep. He raked a hand through his hair and fumbled for the matches next to the lamp on the bedside table. He struck one and the room was cast in eerie, wavering shadows. The match began to burn his fingertips, so he blew it out. He lit another then the lamp. What time was it? He pulled out his pocket watch and opened it.

  Midnight.

  Mr. Seymour stepped onto the boardwalk beside Natalie. “May I offer you a ride?”

  She kept walking. “No, thank you. It’s not raining.”

  “But it has recently and the ground is all muddy. You’ll ruin your shoes.”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you.” She’d been wrong once, she wouldn’t be again. She would walk through a monsoon before accepting a ride she shouldn’t from any man.

  He gripped her arm, pulling her to a stop, and she backed up against the building. He leaned one hand on the planking next to her head. “Rumor around town is that he left. No good-byes, just left.”

  Natalie fought sudden tears. “He’ll be back.” He had to come back. She loved him. He wouldn’t just leave her without saying good-bye. He had no reason to leave.

  “Most folks say he won’t.”

  She ducked under his arm and hurried off. Crossing the muddy street, she went inside the house Willum was building. He would be back. He had to finish this house for the man who’d hired him.

  Natalie gazed around the living room. A thick layer of wood shavings covered the floor. The crown molding around the ceiling had a vine of delicate flowers carved into them. Even the molding at the base of the walls had the carvings. No wonder it was taking Willum so long. The details were incredible. It must have taken him hours and hours to carve each section of the moldings. This wasn’t the simple house she’d thought from the outside. She’d been wrong about this house and wrong about Willum not being able to complete a “simple” house. There was nothing simple here. Willum had poured his heart into this house. She could see him in all the details.

  She crossed to the middle of the room where a worktable made from two sawhorses and a wooden door stood. On the table lay a piece of the lower molding, the design penciled on, the carving barely started. His tools were gone.

  Willum must have had a family emergency to not tell her or Papa or his friends where he was going.

  She left the house and walked straight to Willum’s cabin. She put her hand on the latch and stopped. Please don’t let the same thing happen as last time.

  What if Willum had returned and was home?

  She knocked.

  And waited.

  And knocked again. “Willum?” She opened the door. The room was dim, cold, and damp. No one had been here in several days at least. A lamp and matches sat on the small table. She lit the lamp and a warm glow filled the room. She waited for the feeling, the dread, the shaking, the difficulty breathing, the weak knees, the nausea, the walls moving. None of that happened this time. She took a deep breath then closed the door and looked around.

  On the bare bunk sat a small lump of wood. She picked it up. A partially carved doe curled up with her fawn. She hugged it to her breast. She would rather have one of Willum’s carved animals that cost him nothing than a hundred hair combs in the fanciest designs.

  Willum, where are you?

  She slumped onto the bunk and curled up.

  He had to come back.

  He just had to.

  Natalie woke to Papa shaking her. “Natalie!”

  She sat up and could see that it was dark outside.

  “We were so worried about you. Are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She threw her arms around Papa and cried.

  Willum woke and looked at his watch. Midnight. He rubbed the back of his neck. That was three nights in a row. He would sleep hard until midnight, wake suddenly as though someone had shaken him, then wouldn’t be able to sleep well the rest of the night. What was going on?

  “Build My house. ”

  Willum jerked around. “Who said that?”

  Silence.

  He lit the lamp and held it high. “Who’s there?” The room was empty.

&nbs
p; “Build My house.”

  The voice hadn’t come from in the room, but closer. But from where? His head? But it had been so audible. Was he going mad? Or was it…?

  “Lord?”

  “Build My house.”

  He sat up. The Lord was speaking to him? “Your house? The church? But the money was stolen.”

  “Trust Me. Build My house.”

  Had the Lord seen to it that the thief had been caught? “But that would mean returning to Tumwater.”

  “Build My house. ”

  The thought of seeing Natalie with another man festered the hurt already inside of him. “I don’t want to go back.”

  “Build My house. ”

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I can’t go back.”

  “Build My house.”

  He raked his hands into his hair and grabbed two fistfuls. Could he do it and not see Natalie? No. Everyone would know what he was doing once he started swinging his hammer. They would all come to gawk and laugh. He released his hair and stood. “I won’t go back.”

  The voice went silent.

  “Lord?”

  Willum stood on E.V.’s porch in the cold. Was returning the right decision? Part of him said no. The part that was still in love with a girl who had betrayed him. But the other part, the part that knew better than to try to run from God, knew he was supposed to return. He prayed that the money was returned and he could build quickly. He knocked.

  E.V. opened the door and immediately pulled him into a back-slapping hug. “Where have you been? Frederick told us you left. I’m so glad you’re back. You’re staying, right?”

  It was nice to know he was missed. At least by his friends.

  “Come in.”

  Willum welcomed the warmth. He sat down at the table with E.V., Larkin brought them each a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

  “Did they find the man who stole the church building fund?”

  E.V. shook his head. “He got clean away.”

  He was afraid of that. What am I supposed to do now, Lord?

  “The church is planning a bake sale this Saturday to get the building fund going again.”