Montana Bride by Christmas

by Linda Ford

A smile tugged at his mouth. “I remember one year when I was maybe nine or ten. Kenny announced to Ma that it was Christmas and we should do something special. She said to do whatever he wanted. He told me to put on my outer clothes and he grabbed the axe. I remember thinking he was so big and brave with the axe over his shoulder. We marched down the road to the nearby river.

  “We need a Christmas tree, Kenny said. Not too big but something nice and green to remind us that Jesus came to give us new life.

  “Will Mama be happy? I asked.

  “Kenny squatted down to face me and patted my shoulder. Hugh, Mama isn’t happy very often. That’s just the way it is.”

  Annie wondered if Hugh realized he put his hand on his shoulder as if recalling how his brother had touched him.

  “We found a tree.” Hugh smiled. “Kenny insisted we look at it from every angle and made a great deal out of pointing out how perfect it was. He told me to stand back while he chopped it down and then together we dragged it home and set it in a pail of sand in the corner of the living room. Kenny produced some bits of yarn—” Hugh grew thoughtful. “He must have gathered it up for weeks. He showed me how to tie it into bows and we hung them on the tree.” He smiled and then chuckled. “I expect it looked pretty crude but we were happy with it.”

  Annie pictured two young boys doing their best to make the season special. She saw love and tenderness in every action.

  “Kenny helped me make a star out of brown paper and tied it to the top of the tree. Kenny opened the big family Bible and found the Christmas story and read it. He wasn’t a good reader but I didn’t know and if I had, I wouldn’t have cared. All that counted was this feeling of sharing something special with my brother. I felt like I mattered to him. Ma patted Kenny’s head and said, You are such a dear boy.”

  His voice grew husky. “She never said anything to me but Kenny squeezed my shoulder and said I was a dear boy too. Then he gave me a present wrapped in a bit of cloth.”

  Hugh again got that faraway look in his eyes and Annie knew he had gone back in his memories to that day.

  “It was a wooden whistle he had carved. Best gift I ever got.” He grew quiet, thoughtful. “Best Christmas I ever had.”

  Annie realized that it was likely the last Christmas Kenny had been alive. Hugh had lost so much when he lost his brother. She decided right then and there she would make this Christmas one to rival that one. Both Evan and Hugh would have memories of this year that would stay with them the rest of their lives.

  “Nothing special about your Christmases with the Stewarts?”

  “They were older and thought a quiet time of reading and a new shirt were enough.”

  She chuckled, hoping to draw him away from the darkness that filled his eyes. “Surely different than a Marshall Christmas. Ours have always been full of fun and activity.”

  She was rewarded by the flare of interest in his eyes. A glance at Evan and she knew he listened to every word.

  “What is a Marshall Christmas like?” Hugh asked.

  “When Ma was alive she always found something special for each of us. I remember the year she bought me a hairbrush and hand mirror set with English roses painted on the back.” She still had them and cherished them.

  “Go on.”

  “We have a special breakfast—everyone’s favorites. Then Pa and the boys do chores. When they come in, we open presents.” She grinned. “It’s very noisy. We play games and then have a big dinner in the middle of the afternoon.”

  “Sure is different than mine, isn’t it?”

  “I think we both have special memories and I think we should combine them to make our first Christmas memorable.” She held her breath hoping he wouldn’t point out that he might find someone else before then.

  He looked to Evan. He couldn’t possibly miss the eagerness in the boy’s eyes. He turned back to Annie. “That sounds like a wonderful plan. You’ll have to tell me what to do though.”

  “We’ll all work together.” Her mind whirled with what they could do. She thought of how Kenny had read Hugh the Christmas story. They could make figures to illustrate that. “We can start today if you like.”

  “It’s almost a month away.”

  “I know but think how much fun we can have for a whole month.”

  His expression could be best described as doubtful but Evan’s was so hopeful she knew it was the right thing.

  “What are we doing today?” Hugh asked.

  “The Christmas story. Wait here.” She hurried through the cold living room and realized the storm still blasted outside. She chose to believe that God had given them this interlude so they could grow together as a family.

  She returned with paper, pencils and scissors. “Let’s draw the figures of those involved in the Christmas story.”

  Hugh snorted. “You don’t want to see my drawing.”

  “It’s not for public viewing. It’s for us. And making it is half the fun. What do you want to do? The wise men, the shepherds, sheep…?”

  He stared at her. “You’re not joshing?”

  “Nope. I’m perfectly serious.” Did he catch the referral to perfect? She wanted him to acknowledge she was perfect in her role of mother, and would be equally perfect as wife.

  “Evan, why don’t you come and join us? Grandfather?”

  “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll carve some animals. Can you find me a scrap of wood that I can carve?”

  “I can do it.” Hugh jumped up, just a little too eagerly in Annie’s view. He found several pieces of wood and took them to Grandfather. “Can you teach me how to do it?”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “So much for drawing the figures.”

  “This is even better. They’ll last.”

  “There’s that.” She liked the idea of something they could cherish in the years to come. “Evan?”

  The boy looked from his papa to Annie. While he made up his mind, she quickly sketched out the outline of a sheep. “You can color this and then I’ll find some wool and you can glue it on to make a real sheep.”

  “A real pretend sheep?” Hugh asked.

  She laughed. “I’ll glue the figure to a piece of wood so it will last.”

  Evan climbed to his chair and took the colored crayon she handed him. The set had been a gift from Annie’s mother two years before her death and although Annie cherished them she couldn’t think of a way she would sooner see them used than in Evan’s little hands. He held the crayon awkwardly. She wrapped her hand about his and showed him how to make blue marks on the paper. It didn’t matter if he scribbled. As she’d said, she would later cut out the sheep and glue it to wood.

  The tip of Evan’s tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his task.

  She drew three more sheep then turned to see what Grandfather and Hugh were doing. Grandfather had the rough shape of a camel. Hugh might have been making the same animal but it was hard to tell.

  He glanced up and saw her watching. “It’s harder than it looks.”

  She knew her eyes revealed her amusement and hoped he wouldn’t be offended. She knew he wasn’t when he chuckled and turned the bit of wood round and round.

  “I can’t tell which is up or down.”

  They both laughed; their gazes caught and held and she couldn’t remember what she meant to be doing.

  Grandfather touched Hugh’s hands. “If you whittle away a bit here and here…” Hugh blinked and looked at what Grandfather showed him.

  Throughout the day they continued work on the animals, pausing for soup at dinnertime. Evan colored a bit after the meal and then wandered off to play with Happy but always returned to see what Annie was doing.

  She’d decided to make human figures of those in the Christmas story out of fabric and sticks. She didn’t rush the project. It was too pleasant to be working together on something, anticipating the pride and joy of the finished product. As they worked, they talked. Grandfather always had lots of stories and they seemed to draw out
Hugh who shared stories of his early days when he’d first begun his ministry.

  “I remember getting lost on a hot summer day when I had set out to visit a family with a dying grandfather. I had run out of water. Could see no rescue, no help, nothing to direct me.”

  She held her breath. Obviously he’d survived but still it frightened her to think of his situation.

  Grandfather’s hands had grown still as he listened to Hugh. “How’d you find your way out?”

  “I took shelter under a lone tree and sat down to think and pray. I was pretty discouraged. Things had not been going well for me.” He shrugged. “I suppose you could say I was a little like Elijah sitting under the juniper tree waiting to die.”

  Annie knew the story. How the prophet had been fleeing for his life and begged to die. “What happened?”

  He gave her a grin. “I fell asleep just like Elijah did and…” He trailed off, the gleam in his eye informing her that he meant to tease her. She remembered Elijah had been visited by an angel but didn’t think Hugh would have had the same experience.

  She turned back to her drawing, pretending it didn’t matter.

  Grandfather chuckled. “Put the poor girl out of her misery. You realize she’s holding her breath, don’t you?”

  Annie sucked in air.

  “Dusk had fallen when I woke up. I saw a campfire in the distance and rode to it. A weathered old man watched me ride up and demanded to know if I was lost. I said I was and told him where I wanted to be. He said I was ten miles off course and he would take me there in the morning.” He sat back with a pleased look on his face. “Turned out he was the man I was supposed to go visit. He said reports of his fatal illness were greatly exaggerated.”

  Annie laughed, as much from sheer relief at Hugh’s safe rescue as from amusement.

  At suppertime, she gathered all the supplies into a basket. The day had passed in a pleasant glow of togetherness. This was exactly what she hoped would happen. “We’ll work on it again later.” She’d save it for times when they could all be together.

  *

  Hugh woke up the next morning and lay listening. When he heard the wind still battering the house and the snow pelting against the walls, he smiled. It still stormed, shutting them in. Perhaps it was wrong to be glad of a dangerous storm and he prayed that God would keep everyone safe.

  Being together like this offered something he knew wouldn’t have been possible under normal circumstances.

  An opportunity to kiss Annie? Though it seemed not to have held much meaning for her. She hadn’t even mentioned it.

  Yesterday, her enthusiasm for Christmas had proven to be contagious. He wanted a Christmas to remember. And one for Evan to remember just as Hugh had one with Kenny that he would never forget.

  He’d ended up with a carving that almost resembled a camel. It had only taken Grandfather a few minutes to make it believable.

  Hugh lay in the cold dark, feeling rather pleased with life at the moment. He knew the feeling couldn’t last. Knew he should be resisting it. But that was the thing about the storm…it made impossible dreams possible.

  Doggy breath and a wet kiss startled him from his daydreams. “Happy, do you want out?”

  The puppy whined.

  Evan scrambled to his feet and into his clothes. Since his bath he had changed into a nightshirt at bedtime. He rushed to the little room at the end of the hall to relieve himself and Hugh hurriedly dressed and took Happy to the door to let him out. He waited with the door closed until he heard the puppy whine then let him in. Happy’s icy feet clattered on the floor as he raced to the mat and sat shivering, giving Hugh accusing looks.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault it’s storming out. But okay. I’ll get the fire going.” He stirred up the embers and added wood.

  Annie stepped into the room, shivering. “You beat me up this morning.” She usually had the fire going when he staggered to the kitchen. She quickly prepared a pot of coffee and put it on the stove.

  “Thanks to Happy who wanted out. Now look at him, sitting there with big sad eyes because he blames me for turning him out in the cold.”

  “Poor puppy,” she crooned, rubbing Happy’s neck and patting his head. Happy wriggled with joy.

  “Poor puppy? He has it pretty good I would say. He could be out in the woodshed.”

  She patted his arm. “Poor Hugh. Are you feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “Of course not.” Except maybe he was. Why should Happy get that kind of attention? He stared at the coffeepot, willing it to boil. Once he had a hot drink he wouldn’t be jealous of an innocent puppy.

  Grandfather limped into the kitchen just as the coffee boiled. Hugh poured two cups of the hot liquid and carried them to the table.

  “Storm will last another day,” Grandfather announced.

  “Huh.” Hugh didn’t dare put any sort of emotion into his grunt. Another day of storm. He couldn’t complain.

  Annie hummed as she prepared breakfast. Evan and Happy had heads together looking at the little stuffed dog that Annie had made. He saw Evan’s lips moving but the boy didn’t speak. He’d never heard Evan say a word. Would he ever talk? A great sense of failure swept through him. Was it his fault, his failure that affected the boy rather than his recent conditions? He kept his eyes on the contents of his coffee though he ached to look to Annie seeking some kind of reassurance.

  He drained the cup and forced his thoughts to a different direction. It struck him how both he and Evan had suffered because of the failure of their parents and he vowed he would somehow make it up to his son. Exactly how he’d do that he couldn’t say but having Annie here seemed like a good start. What would he do if someone more suitable showed up on his doorstep?

  He slowly filled his lungs, filling his heart with courage and strength. He would do what he must and send Annie away. She could do far better than settle for him.

  His mind clear on the matter, he ate the breakfast she set before him. Would they do more Christmas preparations today?

  Annie was awfully cheerful and he wondered why. She saw his look of curiosity.

  She bounced forward in her chair. “I remembered something my mother did with me when I was little. She made me dough to play with. I think I can remember how to make it. We can roll it out and cut out shapes to hang on our Christmas tree. Won’t that be fun?”

  For the space of two seconds, he clung to his desire to keep things businesslike between them. Then he turned to Evan. “What do you think, son, does that sound like fun?”

  Evan looked hard at Hugh. He realized the boy was trying to guess how Hugh felt about it. Hugh smiled letting some of his hesitant eagerness show.

  Evan smiled and nodded.

  “Good,” Annie said. As soon as she finished the dishes she mixed up flour and salt and water until she declared it the right consistency. They spent the rest of the morning rolling it out and cutting out star, Christmas tree and cross shapes. She poked a hole in the top of each. “So we can put a string through to hang them,” she explained. She carefully arranged them on a tray and set it in the warming oven to dry.

  He wondered what they would do in the afternoon. Would she continue to plan activities that kept them together? He soon had his answer.

  “I’m going to make some more dough and we can make whatever we want with it. Not just stuff for Christmas.”

  They spent the afternoon rolling and punching and shaping the dough.

  Evan had made something and looked from Annie to Hugh as if seeking approval.

  “What have you made?” Annie asked.

  Evan pointed to it.

  Annie looked at Hugh, silently pleading for help. Something about the way she looked at him slipped between the cracks of his inner barriers and exploded like a burst of sparks from a burning log.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze from her warm smile and trusting eyes.

  “What do you think it is, Hugh?”

  His breath rushed out and he looked at Evan’s crea
tion. “I’d say it was a dog. Am I right?”

  Evan nodded and gave him a pleased smile. The boy carefully carried the dough dog to the mat in the corner and placed it beside the stuffed dog.

  “How’d you know it was a dog?” Annie whispered.

  “It looks almost like Spot.”

  “It does not!” She huffed her shock.

  “It does except for the ears and the eyes and the nose and the tail and the—” He laughed, pleased when she joined him. Her amusement filled her eyes and flooded his heart.

  It had become harder and harder to guard his thoughts.

  He sobered. He must be careful. Not only was his future peace of mind at stake, so was Evan’s.

  That night, Annie read a story to Evan. Hugh wondered if the boy enjoyed the sense of routine as much as he did. Hugh said prayers with the boy, feeling peace enfold them. Then he took Evan and the pup to the bedroom. They both curled up, next to each other and sighed their contentment. Knowing they were settled for the night, Hugh returned to the living room where he had built a fire.

  Annie sat on the couch staring into the flames.

  And waiting for him?

  Of course not. She was simply enjoying the warmth of the fire.

  She turned to him as he sat beside her. “Evan is doing really well, don’t you think?”

  “He’s come a long ways.” He didn’t point out that he had a long ways yet to go. He was only four. He had plenty of time.

  “I’ve been thinking of what you told me about your mother.”

  He stiffened at her words. Any talk or thought of her made his insides hurt.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong but I get the feeling that you think you are to blame for how she treated you. As if you somehow deserved it.”

  He didn’t correct her.

  “How can you believe that?” Her voice rang with passion. “A mother is supposed to love her children. If she doesn’t she must have something wrong with her. I know if I had children I would love them so fiercely I would fight a band of marauding murderers to protect them. Evan isn’t my own child but I would do anything for him.”

  “You love him.” He meant it as a fact.

  She didn’t deny it but looked away, a troubled expression on her face.