“It is good to see you too, William. You’re doing a fine job for Father. Please keep up the good work.”
William stood attentive and expanded his chest proudly from the compliment. “I’ve watched you grow from a babe to a charming young woman,” he said fondly. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had an unkind word for me, and I thank you for that.”
Jenny sent him a brilliant smile. “Why, William, are you going soft on me?” she teased.
“No, Ma’am. I ain’t. But we sure do miss you around here. It just ain’t the same without you.”
Nicholas listened to the exchange between them and realized he had one more reason to feel guilty for taking Jenny away. This was her home, and she loved the people here.
William glanced at the sky. “The weather will be nice for your journey home.” As he spoke, the sun came from behind the clouds, and a soft breeze stirred the air.
Molly and Thomas stepped outside as Nicholas attached Jenny’s valise to Dexter’s saddle.
“Jenny, you brought a lot of clothes for just one night,” Molly chuckled.
Jenny searched for an answer to Molly’s comment. “I—I—” she stammered.
“She couldn’t decide what to wear,” Nicholas interrupted. “You know how changeable an expectant mother can be. I, on the other hand, brought none.”
Jenny sent him a grateful glance for helping her out of a delicate situation.
Molly broke out with laughter. “That’s a fine explanation, Nicholas. Do come back and visit us soon. It’s been wonderful seeing you both, and remember—I’ll see you at my wedding in two months’ time.”
“We’ll be there,” Jenny replied. She hugged father and kissed him farewell. “Take care of yourself.”
Thomas hid the lump forming in his throat. “I will. I’m not leaving this world yet,” he responded. He watched Jenny and Nicholas mount, then ride down the lane as gentle thoughts filled his mind.
Jenny stole glances at Nicholas as they rode home in silence. Her life had been turned upside down since she had met him. Broad shouldered, he rode erect in the saddle, his long muscular legs appealing to her senses. His raven hair gently blew in the breeze. As she took in his handsome profile, her heart skipped a beat, and she relived the intimacy they had shared the night before. She had responded with passion as he placed her under his fiery touch. She tore her gaze away from him. This is ridiculous! I am acting like a schoolgirl swooning over him. She had vowed to leave him at the end of the year. Each day that passed brought them closer to the end of that time. What explanation can I give Father when I come home alone with a baby?
They entered Small Timbers, and Nicholas veered toward the fields. “I must find Warren and tend to the plantation. I’ll see you at the house for dinner.”
Jenny nodded to him, then rode to the barn and dropped off Daisy. With valise in hand, she went to her room and unpacked. Suddenly, she doubled over in pain and felt a sticky substance between her legs. Blood seeped through her garments, and she removed them at once. She tended to herself, then slipped into a robe and lay down on the bed. Her cramps subsided as swiftly as they came, but as a precaution, she stayed in bed until it was time to cook dinner for Nicholas.
Jenny was still bleeding when she woke up the next morning. She didn’t tell Nicholas of her discomfort but waited until he was away from the house, then went to the stables and asked Billy to saddle Daisy.
Billy was quick to oblige and brought Daisy outside. “Here you are, Jenny,” he announced. “You be careful riding.”
Jenny smiled at Billy’s kind ways. “I will,” she answered genially. Unchaperoned, she rode the long trip to Greenville.
Going straight to Doc Jones’ house, she tethered Daisy and entered through the door that led to his office. She took a seat on the bench to await her turn and gazed about the room, her nerves frayed. A patient left the office, and Doc Jones stuck his head into the waiting room.
“Next,” he called and waited for her to enter. “What brings you here, Jenny? You look healthy to me.”
Normally, Jenny was not at a loss for words, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she looked away in embarrassment. “I—I—” she stammered.
With his usual sensitivity, Doc Jones soon put her at ease. “Are you having female problems, Jenny?”
In a tiny mirror hanging on the wall, Jenny saw her face turn crimson. Groping for the right words, she managed to explain her dilemma and concluded by asking, “Am I losing the baby, Doc?”
Doc Jones helped her onto the examining table and carefully examined her. “Jenny, I don’t mean to alarm you, but you are not pregnant.”
“Not pregnant? But I must be! I skipped my monthly until yesterday, and I was physically ill.”
“Be that as it may, Jenny, but you are having a normal menstruation. Clearly, you had a false pregnancy.” Thoughtfully, he studied her. “You’re under stress. You’ve been married less than a year, and your father has had serious health problems. These conditions could have disrupted your cycle.”
The doctor’s diagnosis hammered in her ears. You are not pregnant. “I feel so foolish to assume that I was pregnant.”
“I see the disappointment in your eyes,” Doc Jones said. “I’m sorry, Jenny, but this is not uncommon. Could it be that you and Nicholas are trying too hard?”
At the mention of Nicholas, she pondered his reaction. Will he be relieved? He would no longer be hindered from sending her on her way once the contract had been fulfilled. She felt a pang of regret, and her heart twisted with sorrow for, though Nicholas didn’t want a baby, she now knew that she did.
Doc Jones placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes softening. “Don’t be disheartened, Jenny. They’ll be plenty of time for babies.”
Jenny’s eyes clouded with tears. “How do I explain this to Father? He was elated at the news and will be devastated.”
“I’ll be paying him a visit soon, Jenny. I can break the news to him then, if you like.”
“And Molly?”
“I’ll speak with Molly, too.”
“Thank you, Doctor Jones, I do so appreciate it. By the time I see Father again, he will have accepted the news. Perhaps then I can explain in detail how I misunderstood my symptoms.”
The kind doctor reached into his medicine cabinet and brought out a small bottle of crushed ginger. He handed the herb to her. “Steep this in water to make tea and drink several cups throughout the day. It’ll soothe your cramps and calm your stomach.”
Jenny slipped the herb into her pocket and strolled from his office, heavy emotions weighing on her mind. Normally, she would have stopped by Aunt Thelma’s, but her heart wasn’t in it today. Mounting Daisy, she started for Small Timbers. She was halfway to the plantation when Nicholas thundered toward her.
“Where have you been, Jenny? I’ve been searching the countryside for you. How dare you ride unchaperoned in your condition?”
“There is no condition,” she said bleakly.
Nicholas eyed her sharply.
“What do you mean, Jenny? Are you or are you not expecting?”
“No, Nicholas, I am not with child. Doc Jones claims I had a false pregnancy, possibly brought on by horrendous stress.”
Nicholas digested the news. Disappointment crossed his features. Sympathetic to her sadness, he said, “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Nicholas. I realize you didn’t want the responsibility of being a father.”
“That’s not true, Jenny. Perhaps at first I had doubts, but before the day was over, I was rejoicing in my heart.”
“Let’s not speak of this again,” Jenny said, fighting tears as she urged her mount home.
Nicholas kept pace beside her, merging into the fields when t
hey reached the plantation.
Overwrought, Jenny went to the house and steeped the ginger tea Dr. Jones had given her. After sipping a cupful, she vigorously attacked her chores. In six months, her year would be over. For now, she must think about her future and forget the loneliness that continually tormented her.
On Christmas Day, Jenny carried a small tree into the house and trimmed it with painted cookies, ribbons, and lace. It was a reminder of the Christmases she had shared with her father and Molly.
Nicholas stepped into the parlor and saw her fascination with the tree.
“It’s not too late. Do you want to go home for Christmas, Jenny?” he kindly asked.
“No, not this Christmas,” she responded, thinking of the passionate encounter that might take place were they to share the same bed again. She refused to let herself be vulnerable. “When Father is well enough, I would love for him to visit Small Timbers.”
“Perhaps next year,” Nicholas said.
Jenny looked at him sharply, hiding the pain that gripped her. “There will not be a next year for us. We will have gone our separate ways by then.” She sighed. “The other day I visited father and Molly and lavished them with gifts. I told them you sent your tidings but couldn’t get away from the plantation.” She started for the kitchen. “Come, let’s eat. I have cooked roast fowl with all the trimmings.” She stopped abruptly and faced him. “Since it is Christmas, with your approval, I’d like to serve dinner in the dining room.
“Please do.” Nicholas said. “It is, indeed, a special day.” He helped her carry in the food and set it on the table. “Your cooking is always good Jenny, but you’ve made an extra effort to make the day special by fixing my favorite meal.”
As he sat down to dinner, Jenny brought in mincemeat pie and sat it on the sideboard. She then placed a candle in a holder made of pinecones and sprigs of evergreen and centered it on the table. She lit the Christmas taper, bringing a soft glow to the room and sending warmth between them. As the candle flickered, their eyes met.
“Let’s call a truce and enjoy the spirit of the season,” Nicholas said, then filled his plate with the sumptuous fare she had fixed.
Agreeable to his suggestion, Jenny nodded. Being careful not to spill food on the good linen while filling her plate, she glanced up and saw his forlorn expression. She dropped a lump of sugar into her coffee mug. “Why do you look so gloom?”
“I was thinking that it’s been a long time since I celebrated Christmas. Sad memories still plague me after all these years.”
Jenny sipped her coffee. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He nodded. “When I was eight, my parents and I left Arkansas to spend the holidays with Uncle James and Aunt Louise here at the plantation. We were caught in a blinding storm, and they became victims of an accident when the carriage hit an embankment and hurled them into the freezing river. They drowned instantly. The horse died, too, when the axle broke and the carriage fell on top of him. I was thrown from the carriage and survived by landing in a thick bed of leaves.”
“It must have been a terrifying experience for you,” Jenny gasped. “What happened after the accident?”
Nicholas furrowed his brow and brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “I wandered around in a daze until a farmer spied me from the road. He pumped me for details and then brought me here to my uncle’s plantation.”
Jenny reached over and patted his arm. “What must have begun as a pleasurable trip became a night of terror for you.”
“Indeed it did. Sadness hung over me for days when they found my parents’ bodies and buried them here on the plantation. Uncle James and Aunt Louise opened their home to me and gave me a proper upbringing in a warm and loving environment. They saw to my education, but farming was in my blood. No amount of schooling could dissuade me from becoming a plantation worker. Together, we oversaw Small Timbers. With hard work, the plantation prospered as we grew cotton, grains, and corn. Aunt Louise nurtured me with love and kindness. When she died of consumption, I felt abandoned again and questioned why those whom I loved were taken away from me. Then Uncle James died.”
They were pulled from their discussion when, in the distance, they heard the laborers celebrating the happy occasion with their families.
“Warren said you sent potpourri gifts to the women for Christmas. This is a rare occurrence, Jenny.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I used scraps of material for a base, then I put a mixture of oranges, cinnamon, and cloves together and tied a ribbon around them. I thought it might add a festive touch to the drab cabins.”
“You are kind, Jenny. Your thoughtfulness goes beyond words,” Nicholas praised between mouthfuls of succulent roast duck.
They lingered over mincemeat pie and coffee.
“After dinner, I want to find Billy. I have a bag of marbles for him,” Jenny said. She took a sip of coffee, enjoying the aroma of the dark brew. “Lest Warren feel forgotten, I made him an apple cobbler.”
“Billy will be delighted with your gift,” Nicholas said. “And Warren always brags about your cooking. I’ll walk with you to his house.”
As dusk settled over the plantation, they donned their coats and, in the crisp air, strode to Warren’s cabin.
After presenting Billy with the marbles and Warren with the tasty dessert, they started to leave when Billy chimed, “We have something for you, Jenny.” He handed her a small package. “Open it,” he said excitedly.
Jenny removed the rumpled paper and pulled out a red ribbon. She hugged Billy and Warren. “Thank you both.”
As Nicholas and Jenny prepared to leave, Jenny’s voice echoed in the room. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” everyone chimed.
Bathed in the holiday spirit, she and Nicholas headed for the house, picking up pace as the air turned frigid.
They retired to the parlor and sat by the flickering firelight. Sharing an amiable mood, they temporarily shelved their deep-seated feelings.
Nicholas looked on while Jenny read aloud from a book of Christmas poems. Eventually his eyes shifted to the Christmas tree that she had decorated, then to the soft glow of the lamp, and on to the gleaming embers in the fireplace. Moved by the festive surroundings and caught up in the Christmas spirit, he spoke of happy Christmases past when his family was alive. He handed her a package.
“What is this?” she asked, taking the unexpected gift from him.
Nicholas grinned. “Open it,” he encouraged.
She scanned the note tucked into the ribbons.
Merry Christmas, Jenny
Nicholas
Removing the tissue paper, she found a richly enameled hairbrush and hand mirror embossed with paintings of red roses amid silver trim.
“You went to considerable length to purchase these!” She gasped. “Thank you, Nicholas!”
“It was my pleasure, Jenny.”
“But I have no gift for you,” she frowned.
“You cooked a feast for me today and stirred fond memories with your festive spirit,” Nicholas chimed. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
When Jenny retired to her room, a warm glow stole over her as she removed the old hairbrush and replaced it with the vanity accessories Nicholas had given her.
A smile formed at the corners of her mouth as she got into bed. Feeling good that she’d been able to give gifts to others on this Christmas Day, she closed her eyes in peaceful slumber.
Chapter 11
In February of 1851, Molly Hayden and Wade Dillon walked down the aisle at the church in Greenville. Parson Williams married the handsome couple, and immediately after, a wedding reception followed at the Town Hall. As the guests filed into the building, Nicholas stopped to speak with Jason Walker.
Giving the men a chance to visit a
lone, Jenny meandered to the table, gazing at the decorations in honor of Molly’s marriage. She touched the festoons of red ribbon clustered with dried roses that draped the tables. If I own a shop, I will have lots of dainty flowers and lace like this, she reflected as the dream of being a shopkeeper returned. Perhaps someday she would see her plan realized, for she hadn’t given up hope. By marrying Nicholas, her ambition had only been postponed. A woman’s laughter broke into her reverie, and she temporarily tucked away her thoughts.
Aunt Thelma and Ellie carried platters of finger food and set them on the table while Mary stirred punch in a silver bowl.
“I’ll set out the glasses,” Jenny offered. “The folks will want to quench their thirst when the dancing begins.”
The band brought in their musical instruments and began to play a waltz. Molly and Wade danced the first dance, then the honored pair encouraged others to join them. On this happy occasion, the men grabbed their partners and twirled them about the dance floor while teenage girls giggled and flirted with young men.
Sipping on a glass of punch, Jenny looked up and saw Blake Preston striding toward her, an engaging smile playing upon his handsome features. He helped himself to a piece of wedding cake.
“Hello, Jenny,” he said. He took another bite of the sweet, moist pastry. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Jenny hesitated, fearing Nicholas’s reprisal as she recalled their turbulent meeting in the raspberry patch. “I don’t think I should . . .”
“We are childhood friends. No one will think anything of it,” Blake coaxed.
Doubts plagued her, yet she graciously accepted his hand as acquaintances looked on. “Maybe just one dance.”
Nicholas watched them from across the room. He had just witnessed a beautiful wedding that held no deceit and deeply regretted that he and Jenny had not celebrated in the same fashion. His marriage was indeed a mockery, as Jenny had often reminded him. Again, he glanced through the throng of people at Jenny, taking in her radiant smile as she glided across the floor with Blake. Her upswept hair glistened, and tiny ringlets surrounded her dainty face. The lavender gown she wore exposed rounded curves and thrust her breasts upward. He yearned to rain kisses over every inch of her creamy skin. Desperately trying not to embarrass Jenny by arguing with Blake, he turned away from the striking pair and strode to the table.
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