Cristabelle_The Christmas Bride

by Hebby Roman

  “Oh, Davie, you’re so sweet.” She hugged him.

  “Then you’ll think about marrying me?”

  “Of course, I will.” She swiped at her wet face and managed to smile.

  “Good.” He exhaled. “I’m glad you know my intentions are honorable.” He bent his head and kissed her tears away. “Now I want to show you something. I think you’ll like it.”

  He glanced at the packed crates. “Did Commander Gregor give you the day off to move?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Let me show you my surprise, and then I’ll get these crates moved for you.”

  She placed her hand in his. “I’m ready. Show me.”

  He nodded, grinning when he took her arm. He walked briskly, exiting the room, and directing them toward Ann Street where the Catholic Church stood. He stopped in front of the church.

  “I know you gave my sketch to Father Fernández, but I was wondering, have you checked on the woodcarver’s progress.”

  “No, I wanted to wait and see the carving when it was finished. Father Fernández promised he would send for me.”

  “Well, he sent me to fetch you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, the good Father saw Hayes and me when we rode into town,” he said. “Father Fernández was excited and happy with the lectern, and he knew you wanted to see it. Now, we’ll see it, for the first time, together.” He paused and grinned. “But I want you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes, and I’ll lead you inside.”

  “Oh, really, Davie, don’t you think it’s a bit silly—”

  “No, humor me.”

  “All right.” She closed her eyes and felt his hand covering the upper part of her face. She welcomed his strong arms guiding her and savored the all-male smell of him: of leather and horses, of wool and starched linen.

  They walked in tandem for a few moments, and he lifted his hand, saying, “Look!”

  She gazed at the gleaming wood of the lectern, admiring Davie’s drawing of leaves, vines, and tree branches, alive with birds. And the clever carving showed the rough outlines of a raccoon and a fawn, half-hiding in the curlicues.

  She took it all in, how marvelous the lectern looked, and how well the woodcarver had captured Davie’s sketch. She turned to him and threw her arms around his neck, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, Davie, it’s beautiful, so very beautiful.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I think it turned out rather fine.”

  Chapter Nine

  Davie held her close, returning her hug. He wondered about himself, why he’d turned her down when she’d wished to be… intimate. But he hadn’t wanted to take advantage. It was obvious she was especially vulnerable today. And he’d never had a virgin nor an unwilling woman. Not that she was unwilling… but he knew his Angel.

  He didn’t know what had possessed her to act with such passion—it wasn’t like her. He believed she would have regretted it, the minute they’d laid together. The last thing he wanted was to cause her regret or… fear.

  Given her past reticence, he believed she secretly feared the physical demands of marriage because of her mother’s experiences. But now that her mother was married to a good man, maybe it would help Crissy to feel more secure.

  Grasping her shoulder, he drew her to his side. “I’m pleased you like it. I tried to draw what you wanted. And the woodcarver has done an admirable job, though, Father Fernández told me it took him an extra week to carve it.”

  She turned to him and snuggled closer. “Yes, I thought he would never finish.” She pulled away and gazed at the carvings again. “But it was worth the wait. It’s beautiful beyond measure, and I’m glad.”

  “Good. I’m happy, if you’re happy.”

  “Really?” She stroked his jaw and turned her face up to be kissed.

  He kissed her on the cheek.

  She pulled apart and glanced at the lectern again, her eyes going wide. “Oh, Davie, do you know what this reminds me of?”

  “Uh, no, I can’t say.”

  “Of Christmas.”

  “Of Christmas? But it’s not quite the end of August.” He swatted at a fly. “And still hot as… Uh, very hot outside. How on earth can you think of Christmas?”

  She closed her eyes and went very still. “Remember, I asked about Christmas and fairies—the first day we met?”

  “I remember everything about the first day. Vividly.”

  She opened her eyes and regarded him. And he almost lost himself, glimpsing the golden flecks in her tawny eyes.

  “Christmas is my most favorite time of year. I guess I never told you.”

  “No, you haven’t mentioned it.”

  “Well, Christmas was a special time in San Antonio with the decorations, the luminarias, and the Noche Buena Posadas.”

  “I’ve heard of the posadas, where people go, with lit candles to their neighbors’ homes, asking if there’s room for the Holy Family.” He rubbed his jaw. “I know some Spanish but what are luminarias?”

  “They’re candles, usually secured in a holder with sand and covered with oil cloths. The Mexicans light the candles at night, and the light shines through the oil cloths. They’re enchanting-looking, lining the river in the old part of town.”

  She grasped his arm and turned toward him. “And there are decorations, especially in churches: wreaths, boughs of greenery, and Christmas trees.”

  He glanced around. “You’re wanting to decorate the church for Christmas?”

  “Yes, if you’ll help me.”

  “Of course, I’ll help you.” And he would, if he’d returned in time.

  The commander should be giving him specific orders soon; he hoped they didn’t need to be apart for too long.

  “What kind of decorations are you thinking of?” he asked.

  “I’d like to put wreaths above the pulpit and the lectern. I would drape the altar rail and the pulpit with greenery, mixed with red berries like holly.” She bit her lip and tapped one finger against her chin. “For the greenery, we could use piñon or cedar.

  “Though, I’m not certain what to use for the red berries. I haven’t seen holly bushes around here. The wealthy people in San Antonio used to grow holly in their yards. My father would get us a few branches at Christmastime, while working on their mansions.”

  “You’re right. I remember holly bushes. It was the same in Galveston, some of the rich folk had them in front of their porches.”

  “I don’t guess holly grows wild around here. Does it?” she asked.

  “I haven’t seen any…” Then he had a thought. “Have you heard of a tree called Possumhaw Holly?”

  “Possum… what?”

  He smiled. “I know it’s a silly name, but it’s what the locals call it—Possumhaw Holly.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how it got the name, and it’s definitely a tree, not a bush. You’ll find them growing beside cedar breaks, and in the winter, they lose all their leaves, but the branches are chock full of bright red berries.”

  She clapped her hands together. “That’s perfect, Davie, perfect. I can weave the branches in the greenery for the garlands and wreaths. And I can get some velvet fabric and make big, red bows for the wreaths, too.”

  Her enthusiasm was infectious. “We could line the pathway to the church with the luminarias. Father Fernández could light them each night. I can get candles from the sutler,” he said. “Or maybe Maxine would like to donate some.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, knowing what Crissy thought of Maxine. “We could organize some of the townsfolk to put on a posada for Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh, Davie,” she squealed, bouncing up and down. “It would be wonderful. So very wonderful!” She went on tip-toe and kissed his cheek. “I can hardly wait until Christmas.”

  He smiled at her, wishing Christmas was at hand, and he was safely returned to the fort.

  She shook her hea
d. “But I don’t know about the Christmas tree. I would love to put one, right here, in front of the lectern.”

  He stroked her cheek and said, “I don’t know much about Christmas trees, either. Where did you get the idea?”

  “I had a friend at the convent, Agatha, or Aggie, as I called her. She wasn’t Catholic, but her parents sent her to the Ursulines because it was the best primary school in San Antonio.”

  Crissy widened her big, brown eyes, as if remembering. “One day, before Christmas, she took me to her Episcopalian Church. And right in front of the lectern, do you know what they had?”

  “A Christmas tree?”

  “Yes, a Christmas tree, decorated with wondrous things.” She closed her eyes again. “I can still see it in my head, it was tall and green, and it smelled heavenly. They’d put the tree in front of the lectern, all decorated and bright and shimmering.”

  “Sure, and begorrah, it’s a grand idea.” He’d hesitated, uncertain at first, but the happier she appeared, the more he realized he wanted to make her Christmas dreams come true… and more. If everything worked out.

  Maybe, if he helped her plan for Christmas in the next few days, she’d not be too sad when he had to leave again.

  He tried to remember if he’d seen a Christmas tree, and he finally recalled, when he was a young lad, one of the finer shops in Galveston had a Christmas tree in their store window. He remembered candles, some kind of garland, and the most beautiful, glittering decorations, fashioned like balls and pendants.

  He nodded. “Now I remember seeing a Christmas tree once.”

  “The tree I saw had tiny lit candles, at the end of the branches, in some kind of tin holder,” she said.

  “I bet the fort’s blacksmith could make us some candle holders, if we explain what we want.”

  “Oh, thank you. How clever.”

  “What else do you need for the tree?” he asked.

  “More garlands, but Mama is a good seamstress. I’m sure she’d be happy to fashion yards and yards of multi-colored garlands. We could ask around town and the fort for rags.”

  “Sounds like a good idea, but what about the ornaments?”

  She bit her lip again. “That’s the hardest part—the ornaments—they were quite glorious. They looked like metal, all covered in bright paint and glitter, but Aggie let me touch one of them, and they were light and fragile, made out of glass or something.”

  It was what he’d remembered, too, when he’d asked the storekeeper about the glittering ornaments. They were glass and painted or dipped. And they came all the way from somewhere in Europe. He couldn’t exactly remember where, maybe from Italy.

  Galveston was the premier port city in Texas. All kinds of goods passed through his hometown, including lots of luxury items for wealthy customers.

  He had planned to write his parents about Crissy tonight, hoping they could come for the holidays to meet her. In the same letter, he’d ask about the glass Christmas tree ornaments and see if they could order them—as long as they arrived in time for the holidays.

  He knew the imported ornaments would be expensive, but they’d make Crissy happy. It would be his special Christmas surprise for her. Realizing how much she loved Christmas had given him another idea, too.

  “There must be other things you could hang on a Christmas tree to decorate it,” he said.

  “Yes, I suppose so.” She turned to him and half-shrugged. “But I want the tree to be beautiful.”

  “I’ll ask around the fort and see if anyone has ideas.”

  “And I’ll ask the commander. He might have seen a Christmas tree and know what we could use.”

  She turned away and gazed around the church, as if she was envisioning it decorated for Christmas.

  “I want the decorations to look magical, Davie.”

  “Like fairy dust?” He winked.

  She smiled and turned her face up, begging for his kisses—right here in church. He glanced around, but they were alone.

  What would the good Father think?

  She returned his wink and puckered her lips, closing her eyes again. “Yes, like fairy dust.”

  * * *

  Davie walked along the rutted road leading to the commander’s house. The past two weeks had been as magical as any Christmas Crissy might envision. Each night after supper, they’d walked out together, enjoying the waning summer evenings.

  She had her mother’s approval, and he had the commander’s backing to court her. He was careful to return Crissy before dark, but they’d had plenty of time to kiss, talk, and get to know each other better.

  Despite his honorable intentions, there had been many a time he wished he hadn’t turned down Crissy’s offer in her old room. Sometimes, he wanted her so badly, his whole body ached. In the old days, he would have found a willing saloon girl in town but not now. The thought of betraying Crissy, along with her telling him what her mother had been through, was more than enough to discourage him from touching another woman.

  And he knew their marriage had to wait. The commander had sent him a dispatch at Fort Sam Houston, explaining his next mission. It would take several months’ time away from the fort. If they laid together, he might get her with child, and she would have to face everyone’s condemnation all over again.

  She’d managed to overcome her mother’s past and put it behind her. The last thing he wanted was to make her a social pariah once more.

  Today, he’d finally gotten the orders he knew were coming. It had taken a while for the commander to pull together the necessary men and supplies. And today’s stagecoach had brought an answer to the letter he’d written to his parents.

  It was long past time to tell Crissy, but he dreaded doing it, knowing how upset she might get. He couldn’t help but feel insecure, too, asking her to wait. She was a beautiful woman and could have her pick of single men, now she’d come out from the shadows.

  He climbed the cabin’s front steps and knocked on the commander’s door.

  Crissy opened the door at once, as if she’d been waiting for him. She frowned, pulled on a bonnet, and grabbed his hand.

  “Shouldn’t I greet the commander and Peggy before we go walking out?”

  “I’ve no time for pleasantries, Davie Donovan. I need to talk to you.”

  She knew.

  Not that he was surprised. The fort’s gossip grapevine was fast and efficient, relaying news, almost as soon as it happened.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “I thought, the usual place.”

  “All right.”

  She picked up the pace, and he trotted after her. In no time, they arrived at the spring-fed pond.

  Crissy let go of his hand and climbed onto the large rock overhanging the water. She sat down and tucked her skirts around her, covering her legs.

  He sat across from her and reached for her hands.

  She scowled and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Uh, oh, it was as he’d feared.

  Maybe he should have told her sooner. He knew she had trouble trusting men and, by not telling her, had he lost her trust? He hoped not. He hadn’t told her because he’d wanted to enjoy their time together, these past few weeks.

  They’d spent a lot of time at the pond, kissing and doing what lovers did. He’d made her sit for a drawing—hers was the first portrait he’d attempted. The sketch hadn’t done her justice, to his way of thinking, but she’d loved it. He hoped to have more chances to work on his portrait skills, especially drawing Crissy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked without preamble.

  “I was waiting for my orders, so I would know more.”

  “I’m not talking about your orders.” She shrugged one shoulder and bit her lip. “Though, I’ll miss you, heaven knows. I was talking about the commander and his transfer.”

  “Oh, that’s it,” he said.

  “Yes, I wish you or the commander
would have told me I won’t have a job after the end of the year. My job is important to me.”

  He knew she was proud of her job as the commander’s housekeeper. And the job made her feel independent. They’d talked about her continuing to work after they married, and as he’d told the commander, he didn’t mind if she did.

  Realizing she was more concerned about her job than their being separated, he couldn’t help feeling hurt and a strange kind of jealousy, too. Would she be content as his wife and trust him to take care of her for the rest of their lives?

  He shrugged. “Commander Gregor’s transfer was inevitable, after I killed Carlos.”

  “Why? He was a bad man, and you were doing your duty.”

  “Yes, you’re right, and the Army recognizes the commander’s part in bringing the men to justice.” He spread his hands, fingers wide, wishing she’d let him hold her hand. “But the Mexicans don’t see it that way. Killing Carlos and two of his men, along with imprisoning the Mexican we caught, has caused a great deal of fervor in México. They’re angry and have used the incident as an excuse to raid along the border again. They’re targeting remote farms and ranches to exact their revenge.

  “They’re murdering everyone, even women and children, burning their homes, and driving off their livestock.”

  She gasped. “But that’s horrible and unfair. They’re the ones who started this, by killing the passengers on the stagecoach.”

  He shook his head. “They don’t believe one of their rich hidalgos would do such a thing. They think we made the story up, to justify Carlos’ killing.”

  “Well, they’re wrong. If they’d seen that poor, orphaned child, Ellie—”

  “Crissy, people are going to believe what they want to, no matter the circumstances. It’s the way of the world.”

  She sniffed. “I know, but I wish it wasn’t so.”

  He nodded.

  “What do these new raids have to do with transferring Lieutenant Colonel Gregor? Someone needs to guard the border and put a stop to the raids.”

  “The Army and politics, that’s what this is about.” He exhaled and bent his head. “When Mackenzie, the former commander, put an end to the border raiding by crossing into México and pursuing the bandits and hanging them, the Mexican government lodged numerous complaints about their sovereignty being breached. Our government replaced Mackenzie with Gregor.