Torrent Falls

by Jan Watson

  “Let’s bundle up,” Copper said. “We’ll go find the eastern star and follow it like the wise men did; then we’ll put our star atop the tree.”

  Everyone’s hats, coats, and mittens on, they followed Dimmert out into the night. Moonlight glittered on the snow and outlined the dark stable, where the animals slept.

  “There.” Copper pointed to the place over the stable where she knew she’d find the star. Family lore was that her great-grandfather had positioned the barn in just such a way that the wise men’s star would beam from that direction every December 24. Though, of course, that was not the actual date the men had found Jesus, her family always celebrated their trek that night just the same. It was a part of their Christmas tradition.

  Copper drew Lilly Gray even closer in her arms as they gazed at the star. Had there ever been a woman more blessed than she? Here she stood with her baby girl in the very same spot her ancestors had stood, looking at the very same star that God had used to guide the wise men. All the gold and frankincense and myrrh in the world couldn’t take the place of the riches she had received from her Savior’s blessed birth.

  Darcy held the blown-glass ornament up high as if to catch some star shine. Lilly reached for it.

  “No, Lilly,” Copper said. “Let Darcy carry it.”

  Copper could have stood there all night just drinking in blessings, but Lilly’s patience was thin, so she led them back into the house. Dimm stretched as far as he could, but he still couldn’t touch the top of the cedar. Darcy dragged a straight-backed chair over and gave him the star. Lilly tried to climb onto the chair with him.

  “Here,” Darcy said as she lifted Lilly to Dimmert, “you can help.”

  With a little bossing from Darcy, Dimmert slid the hollow stem of the star onto the cedar’s pointed topmost branch, then handed Lilly back to Darcy.

  “Pretty,” Lilly said and clapped.

  “Beautiful,” Copper agreed. Soon everyone joined Lilly’s clapping.

  “Just one more thing,” Copper said as she took another box from the pie safe. “A tree has to have a bird’s nest or it’s not complete.” The robin’s nest she retrieved was old but still in one piece. She couldn’t remember a Christmas tree on Troublesome Creek that hadn’t held this nest tenderly in its branches. She placed it far back in the tree, then stepped away and admired the cedar. “There. Now it’s finished.”

  It was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve before they finally got Lilly to bed. Her late nap combined with the tree trimming and sugar cookies had her wound as tight as an eight-day clock. Darcy had lain down with her in Copper’s bed, and now they both slept, for which Copper was thankful.

  Truthfully, Copper was wound a little tight herself. And it didn’t help that she couldn’t keep herself from pacing from the Christmas tree to the kitchen window, looking out for John. She was acting right silly, she knew, like a lovesick schoolgirl.

  She traced the outline of her mouth, where she could still feel his last kiss. She hadn’t been exactly sure what a kiss from him would feel like, but she had imagined it would be as sweet as John himself, just a light lingering of lips with no demands. It would be pleasant being married to her best friend, she’d thought—pleasant and safe. But he had changed since they’d left Troublesome Creek, she for Lexington and her doctor husband, he for a merchant ship and travels far away.

  She reheated what was left in the chocolate pot and poured herself a cup. Once more she found herself at the window, drawing back the curtains. What’s keeping John? He was bringing Santa Claus with him, and Copper was anxious to see the gifts underneath the tree. Funny how people changed once they grew up. Now what used to be a day of receiving was instead a time of joyous giving. Lilly had turned two in November and was old enough to understand Christmas and get caught up in the excitement. And Dimm was going to be so surprised at what Santa left under the tree for him. That was, if Santa ever came.

  Her mind wandered back to John. Her strong feelings for him frightened her. She’d married Simon impetuously, without a thought to what marriage meant. But she was a widow; she’d tasted passion and its wild result, and she had hoped to never feel that way again. Great love brought greater pain when it was lost, much too high a price to pay. Ah, well, it seemed her love for John had done taken over her heart. She’d just have to trust things would go well.

  A light thump at the door caused her to rush to open it. There stood John with a sack over his shoulder and a big, lumpy package at his feet. “Does that boy never sleep?” he asked with a nod toward the barn. “I’ve been hiding out for an hour waiting for Dimmert to put out his lantern.” He stomped his boots free of snow. “I thought I’d freeze to death.”

  Copper laughed and took the sack as he grabbed the package. “Come on in, Santa, and I’ll make you some hot cocoa. That will warm you right up.”

  “I can think of something better to warm me up,” John replied, hanging his coat behind the door.

  Copper pretended she didn’t hear as she busied herself at the stove. “Do you want cookies or jam cake with this?”

  “Does the cake have them black walnuts I cracked?”

  “Yes—” she pried the lid from the round tin—“and caramel icing.”

  “If this is the same recipe your mam used to make, then cut me two pieces.” He stood in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth.

  Copper could feel his eyes on her while she cut the cake, poured the chocolate in an ironstone mug, and sealed the lid on the cake tin. Finally, she looked up from her task and met his gaze. “Two pieces? You’re so greedy.”

  “Come over here,” he said.

  “Just a minute. Let me put the cake back in the pie safe.”

  He crooked his finger, beckoning her. “Please?” was all he needed to say before she was in his arms accepting the meeting she was so afraid of. His kisses started as warm as sunlight on a clear day. Butterflies caressed her eyelids, her cheekbones. Then he found her mouth and claimed her. Every feeling she’d kept at bay for so long swirled as swift as floodwaters until she was drowning in her own desire.

  “John,” she gasped, “let me go. I can’t breathe.”

  He didn’t let her go, but his arms loosed their tight grip, and he gently lowered her to sit beside him on the hearth.

  Resting her arms on her knees, she hid her face there. “Are you all right?” she heard from a distance, as if he stood across the creek. Her heart was pounding nearly out of her chest, and bright spots danced before her eyes. She took a deep breath and turned his way. “Promise you won’t do that again.”

  John knelt on the floor in front of her and tenderly raised her head until she had to look at him straight on. “Are you saying you don’t favor my kisses?”

  She shook her head. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Oh, John.” She sighed. “I’m saying I like them too much.”

  He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, catching her tears. “Then I can’t promise.” He leaned in, kissing her again, easy this time. “That’s near as much fun as coon hunting,” he teased. Settling back down on the hearth, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You reckon we need to set a date?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. My, she loved him. “I reckon we do. I was thinking of a spring wedding. I’d like to wait until the apple and pear trees bloom so we can have sweet-smelling flowers. But let’s not decide tonight. Tonight you’re Santa, so unload that pack.”

  Soon shiny packages peeked out from under the Christmas tree. Everyone had wrapped gifts except Lilly, whose gifts from Santa—a dolly and a doll-size buggy—sat by the tree. Copper’s parents had always set Santa’s gifts apart from the others. She guessed it was so grownups could see Christmas through a child’s eyes, see that first delight when a little one spied Santa’s gifts. Copper wanted to carry on all the old traditions. It made up a little for not having her family here.

  “Can you shove Dimmert’s present back a little? Even wrapped it’s too easy to tell what he’s gettin
g.”

  John toed the bulky package toward the wall. “You don’t think you went a little overboard with this?”

  Copper, holding Lilly’s doll in her arms, looked up at him. “Dimmert has been so good to me. I couldn’t resist.” She undid the doll’s braided hair and combed it with her fingers until it fell down her back in dark waves, just like Lilly’s. When she laid the dolly in the buggy, the glass eyes closed in her china face. “Does it bother you that I spent so much money on Dimm?”

  He pulled a tiny coverlet over the doll’s shoulders. “You need to know a true thing, Copper. Nothing you could do bothers me. Even that time you broke my heart clean in two, I understood your reason.” The buggy squeaked when he pushed it back and forth.

  John sat down, cupped her chin, and looked into her eyes. “It’s just that you’re so good—so pure in your caring about other folks, I feel like I have to protect you, maybe even from myself.”

  Copper got on her knees and took his face in her hands. “John Pelfrey, I love you. Let’s never go away from each other again.” And then she kissed him.

  This time it was John who said he saw stars. He stood and pulled her up. “I’d better get out of here or else we’ll have to send for the preacher tonight.”

  The weather was warming ever so slightly, and outside Copper’s cozy cabin, Remy was snug as a bug in the fur-lined boots and mittens she’d made herself. Earlier she’d watched from the woods, a keen eye on John as he hid behind the barn. She wondered what he carried in his pack. Remy knew he waited for Purty’s hired hand to go to bed. She’d done that often enough herself so she could sneak up on the porch and spy.

  Crouching, she peered into the house through a slit in the drawn curtains. John and Purty were kissing. A feeling of satisfaction warmed Remy’s little knot of a heart. Then John was pulling on his hat. She’d better make her getaway.

  The night sky was brighter than usual as Remy trekked up the mountainside. It’s that star, she thought, remembering the Christmas story Purty had told her many years ago about shepherds and smart men and a baby boy in a manger. Purty had said this star was the same one that shone on that night so many years ago.

  Halfway home she froze in her tracks. Her nose twitched, sniffing the air. Something familiar was following her. On her way to Purty’s house she had taken the liberty of visiting Hezzy Krill’s chicken coop, and now she slipped off her mitten and dug in her coat pocket for one of the smooth brown eggs secreted there. With her teeth she chipped a piece of shell from the pointed end and shook it until a bit of its contents leaked out.

  Remy waited while the creature watched her and waited also. Finally, she could hear the calloused pads of its four feet creeping up behind her making the barest whisk, whisk sound. She wished she was light on her feet like that, but try as she might to eat as little as possible, her boots broke through the firm crust, each step sinking like a stone.

  “Tch, tch, tch.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, calling the animal closer until its long pointed nose grazed her bare hand. Out of respect, she kept her back to the red fox, slowly maneuvering the egg until the sticky end faced her forest friend. Remy could feel the lap of the fox’s tongue before it snatched the treat. Only then did she turn to watch as the animal loped gracefully away. “Huh.” That was as good as any gift she could ever get. Well, nearly as good, for she most treasured the necklace Purty had left for her to find . . . again.

  Remy crawled into the snug opening of the cave that served her well as home and haven. The fire she’d left untended still burned. She held a stub of candle to the flame. When it lit, she sat it on a small, table-shaped rock. She took the Bible Purty had given her when she was a girl from its hiding place under a ledge, then traced the shape of the book before she opened it. Sometimes her eyes crossed she strained so hard to decipher the words, but she could make out only one.

  The pages were slick and fragile. Remy had about worn out the ones with His name, but she was drawn to them. Whenever she found that word, she said it aloud. . . . Jesus . . . Jesus . . . Jesus. He was her rock, Purty had said, her rock and her salvation. Remy was surrounded by rock in her homey cave. She stood on it and leaned on it and slept on it. The only place she liked better was Torrent Falls. When she was just a girl visiting the falls with her brother Riser, she’d seen angels in the sunlit spray from the tumbling water.

  Laying her head on the Bible, she curled up next to the fire. Sleep came easy to Remy, for though her heart was as hard as a pine knot, it was pure in her mind. She never did anything without the very best of intentions.

  It was early Christmas morning, and Copper hurried to the springhouse with a fresh bucket of milk. She was afraid Lilly would wake before she finished the chore. Mazy had been out of sorts when Copper milked her an hour too early—whoever heard of milking before the rooster crowed?—but it couldn’t be helped today. After pouring the milk in a crock, she scrubbed the bucket before hanging it on a peg to dry.

  The weather had warmed during the night, and the yard was a mess of slushy snow and mud. Rushing around the corner of the cabin, she nearly collided with Dimm, who startled like a timid rabbit. “Merry Christmas,” she said.

  “Merry Christmas,” Dimm replied.

  Copper put her hand on his arm. “Will you stay and eat with us?”

  He ducked his head. “Reckon.”

  Copper grinned. Generally, he’d only come in the house long enough to fill his plate. They were making progress. “Wonder if Santa has come,” she said, pulling open the door.

  Indeed he had. Darcy had lit the few candles Copper would allow on the tree, and it glowed with promise and filled the house with its scent. Darcy handed each of them a mug of fresh-brewed coffee. Dimm stood by the door with his, but Copper carried hers to the hearth, where she warmed herself. Lilly Gray still slept.

  “Is Mr. John coming for breakfast?” Darcy asked.

  Before Copper could answer, he was walking through the door. Her heart leaped at the sight of him—so tall, so handsome, so hers.

  Darcy handed him his coffee.

  “Why’s everyone standing around?” John asked. “Don’t you want to know what Santa had in that pack of his?”

  “The baby’s still sleeping,” Darcy replied.

  John strode to the open bedroom door. “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

  They all gathered behind him, peeping around to watch Lilly.

  First she popped her thumb from her mouth, then scrubbed her eyes with her fists. “Crip muss?”

  Copper asked the others to wait while she dressed Lilly in the dearest little robe and slippers Alice had sent. “Santa came while you were sleeping,” she said as she brushed her daughter’s hair and tied it back with a green-and-red plaid ribbon.

  Lilly squirmed out of her lap and ran through the door to the Christmas tree. “My dolly!” She was so excited she held the doll upside down, its tiny soft shoes under her chin, its long dark tresses sweeping the floor. “Santa bringed my dolly.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Darcy pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven before cracking brown-shell eggs into the cast-iron skillet. “We should eat before everything gets cold.”

  Copper agreed. “We’ll eat before we see what else Santa left under our tree. John, would you say grace?”

  They held hands around the table: John, Copper, Lilly, Dimm, and Darcy, a perfect circle. “Heavenly Father,” John began.

  “Stop!” Lilly cried.

  Copper looked up, one finger to her lips. “Lilly Gray,” she chastised.

  “Heavenly Father,” John said.

  “Dolly,” Lilly said.

  Copper sighed. She didn’t want to remove her daughter from the table on Christmas morning, but Lilly knew better than to interrupt prayers. “What is it, Lilly? What do you want?”

  Lilly held out her doll’s arm. “Dimm?”

  A new pattern of held hands formed. Copper glanced at John. She could see a smile play around his lips as Dimm took the
doll’s pale porcelain fingers in his work-roughened paw.

  “Heavenly Father,” John prayed, “we come with humble hearts to kindly thank You for sending Your Son, a newborn babe, to save us from our shortcomings. Bless this food and bless each one gathered here. Amen.” Finished, he picked up his fork. “Darcy, pass the biscuits.”

  After breakfast, they settled around the tree. Copper sat on the floor with Lilly in her lap. “Seems like I saw something with your name on it, Darcy. Here it is.” She handed her a small, gaily wrapped box.

  Darcy gave the gift back to Copper. “This can’t be mine, Miz Copper. There’s been some mistake.”

  “Hmm,” Copper said, eyeing the card strung through the gift’s red ribbon. “It has your name on it. See?”

  Darcy knelt beside her. “Show me.”

  “‘To Darcy. From Santa,’” Copper read. “There’s no mistake. Why don’t you see what’s inside?”

  “Can I wait? I want to make this last.”

  “Me open,” Lilly said, leaving Copper’s lap to plop down in Darcy’s.

  Darcy helped Lilly untie the ribbon and peel off the paper to reveal a red velvet jewelry casket. Lilly clapped. “Oh, pretty.”

  Trembling, Darcy opened the small case and pulled out a heart-shaped locket on a fine gold chain. “This is the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

  “Let Dolly wear,” Lilly said.

  Copper reached around Darcy and took the chain. “No, Lilly, this is Darcy’s.” Unhooking the minute clasp, Copper fastened it around the girl’s bent neck, then straightened the locket on its chain.

  “Boo-tee-ful.” Lilly clapped again. “Darcy’s boo-tee-ful.”

  One by one the remaining gifts were opened. Darcy had knit a muffler for each person. Dimm had constructed a wee wooden bed for Lilly’s doll and made a pair of chestnut wood candlesticks for Copper.

  John made them all laugh when he put his gifts from Copper on: leather gloves and a leather cap with ear flaps. He anchored the cap in such a way that his ears stuck out like a mule’s.