Tracie Peterson, Tracey V. Bateman, Pamela Griffin, JoAnn A. Grote

by Prairie Christmas Collection

  Heat scorched her face and neck. “Of course.”

  She spent the afternoon listening to the door opening and closing more times than she could count as presumably Mr. Carpenter crammed pot after pot with snow to melt and warm on the stove. Thumps and sloshes were her music while she filled another pot with chunks of meat and canned vegetables—the Trumans’ latest contribution to her welfare. She whiled away the afternoon, reading off and on, knitting, checking her pot frequently, and watching the clock. Curiosity nearly overwhelmed her at the thought of what Mr. Carpenter would look like absent the grime, though she was highly dubious as to whether he could successfully remove years of dirt.

  The sun had set, and the stew filled the room with a tantalizing and most welcome aroma by the time Mr. Carpenter knocked on the door once more.

  Kathleen gasped at the sight of him. He handed her the pot. “I apologize for not returning the rest of your items, Miss. The blanket you so generously supplied is soaking in the tub. And the soap is … well, I was forced to use the entire block.”

  “Oh, Mr. Carpenter. You look wonderful!” And she meant it. His skin, though red where he’d obviously scrubbed and scrubbed, was devoid of dirt. His gray hair hung to his shoulders, thick, with just a touch of wave. His clothes, though ragged and damp, were clean. She couldn’t help the tears filling her eyes, and she quickly looked away, so as not to humiliate either of them.

  “Won’t you come inside and join me for supper, Mr. Carpenter?”

  “Now, Miss Johnson. Have you no sense of propriety? Bad enough we must share two rooms. A grown man does not enter a young lady’s sleeping quarters.”

  “Of course. M–may I join you for supper in the school?”

  He scowled but gave a jerky nod. “Under the circumstances, I believe that would be acceptable. But only because I am old enough to be your grandfather.”

  Kathleen beamed at him. “I’ll dish up our supper and bring it in there lickety-split.”

  He turned away and headed away from her door, but Kathleen heard him mumbling, “Lickety-split. It’s no wonder children today have such an appalling vocabulary when their teachers use such common speech.”

  She grinned as she filled their bowls. Who would have thought two unlikely people stranded together in a blizzard would turn out to be such a blessing?

  Chapter 8

  The blizzard stranded Mr. Carpenter in the schoolhouse for three days. During that time, Kathleen learned a great deal about the man. The torments of war had caused him to retreat into a shell. By the time he had come to his senses, he’d lost all credibility with the town. He sank into despair. Even before her death, his wife had grown so cold, life was nearly unbearable. Mr. Carpenter bore all the blame himself.

  One thing she knew for sure: Mr. Carpenter’s love of teaching was nothing less than a holy calling. He adored sharing knowledge. Kathleen had made up her mind to discuss his placement as the town schoolteacher next term. She felt certain if the school board spent time with him they would see him as she did—particularly if he resisted the urge to allow himself to go without bathing and abstained from even an occasional visit to the saloon.

  By breakfast time on day four, Kathleen and Mr. Carpenter had pretty much run out of things to talk about, so it was with great relief that Kathleen responded to a knock on her door just as she returned the dishes to her quarters.

  Mary and Josh stood outside. At least two feet of snow blanketed the area, with drifts as tall as Flora in some places.

  “Mary! Josh! Come in. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Mary grinned, her face red from the cold. She stomped over to the stove and held out her large, rough hands. “Thought that ya might be gettin’ powerful lonesome.”

  Kathleen turned to Josh and smiled. “What are you doing in town?”

  He smiled back, but his eyes held a serious look that made Kathleen want to run away, to hide from the temptation of falling in love with Josh Truman. It would be so easy to do just that. His kindness and humor drew her, and she’d never known a man to be so self-assured and yet vulnerable, as when he’d professed to having feelings for her so soon after they met. Josh was a rare man, and she knew someday he was going to make a woman very happy. She was almost jealous of whomever that woman would be.

  “I hooked the team up to the cutter.”

  Mary harrumphed. “Rode those horses too fast, if you ask me. Downright dangerous.”

  Josh grinned, and Kathleen couldn’t help but return it. “Sounds wonderful,” she said.

  “How would you like to go for a ride? I imagine you’re just about crazy being cooped up for three full days all by yourself.”

  A knock sounded on the door between her quarters and the schoolroom just as she was going to explain about Mr. Carpenter. “Miss Johnson? Is everything quite all right in there? I thought I heard voices.”

  “Who in the … ?” Mary flung the door open. Mr. Carpenter gave a little scream and jumped back, fists up ready to defend himself.

  Undaunted, Mary advanced. “Who are you? Whad-darya doin’ in the schoolhouse, and what have you done to our little girl?”

  Mr. Carpenter gaped. “I beg your pardon? I wouldn’t lay one finger on that child, and I highly resent the implication.”

  Mary squinted and peered closer. “Myles?”

  “Most certainly. Who else would I be?”

  “Well, I’ll be …”

  Kathleen stepped between the two. “Mr. Carpenter came into the schoolroom to get warm just before the blizzard hit. He graciously accepted my invitation to sleep in the school and has been a godsend. If I had not had his stimulating conversation these three days, I would be stark raving mad.”

  “Well, I’ll be …” Mary stared at him. “I sure did forgit you was such a good-lookin’ fellow, Myles.” She glanced back at Kathleen. “How’d ya ever talk ‘im into takin’ a bath?”

  “Why, Mary!”

  “Sorry. But we been stayin’ upwind from this fellow for years, and here he is in the middle of a snowstorm, smellin’ like a dandy. I never would have believed it.”

  “For your information, Mr. Carpenter asked me for the loan of all things necessary to accomplish a bath, and I merely handed them over and stayed out of his way. The decision was entirely his.”

  Josh joined the three of them in the school. “You two stayed together for three days?”

  Mr. Carpenter drew himself up with all the dignity he could muster considering his scarlet face—compliments of Mary’s loose tongue. “We most certainly did not stay together. Miss Johnson stayed in her quarters behind closed doors, and I, a man old enough to be her grandfather, stayed as far back from her door as possible. However, if you feel she has been compromised, I will do my duty and marry her properly, lest her name and reputation be tarnished.”

  Kathleen gasped as horror tingled between her shoulder blades. Josh placed an arm about her and pulled her away from Mr. Carpenter. Mary scowled. “For pity’s sake. That girl ain’t been compromised. Now if it had been young Josh on the other side of that door ‘stead of you, old man, we might have something to talk about. ‘Sides, when this town gets a load of you in your new clean state, there ain’t gonna be no other topic of discussion.”

  Mr. Carpenter looked as relieved as Kathleen felt at the cancellation of possible nuptials. Still drawn into the circle of his arm, Kathleen turned to Josh. Her face was inches from his, and she could feel his breath warm on her face. She swallowed hard in an attempt to compose herself and stepped out of his embrace. “Would you mind giving Mr. Carpenter a ride home in your cutter? He can’t walk in this snow.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Josh smiled—the gentle, intimate sort of smile reserved for a man in love. He stole her breath away, and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Yes, thank you.” Mr. Carpenter’s voice held just a touch of amusement. The first hint of humor Kathleen had ever detected in the man.

  Josh broke eye contact and sh
ifted his gaze to the former schoolmaster. “I’ll wait while you get your coat.”

  The older gentleman cleared his throat. “I am quite ready when you are.”

  “You’re crazy as a loon,” Mary said. “It’s at least ten below out there. Where’s that army coat you been wearin’ since ‘65?”

  “The coat has been properly destroyed, as it should have been years ago.”

  Kathleen realized now what he’d been doing when he built a bonfire during a letup in the falling snow on the second day of their confinement. She walked to her quarters and hesitated only a moment before she peeled back her quilt. She folded it, then hugged it to her chest. As she walked back to the schoolroom, her mind argued with her nostalgic heart. Could she truly bear to part with her quilt? Perhaps Mr. Carpenter could simply cover with it on the way home and then give it back.

  As soon as the thought came, she rejected it. In all likelihood, his blankets at home were as filthy as the coat had been. A new quilt would remind him of the dignity he’d acquired during the past three days and possibly discourage him from going back to his old ways. She had other blankets. But she wanted him to have something special to mark what she hoped was a new beginning.

  A sudden image flashed across her mind of the beautiful quilt layered in grime. She shook the troubling thought away as quickly as it had come. She was only responsible to be generous. It wasn’t up to her to judge what a person did with her gift. She had only to give it cheerfully as unto the Lord.

  Mr. Carpenter’s brow furrowed when she handed it to him and mentioned it was his to keep. “I’d like you to have this as a token of my appreciation for keeping me company during the storms. God knew I needed you here. I would have been petrified alone.”

  Tears misted in his eyes. Reaching forward, he cupped her cheek in his palm as though caressing a beloved child. “It is I who needed you, dear child. You have aptly spoken, in that God sent me here, but it is I who shall forever be grateful.”

  Impulsively, Kathleen hugged him. He patted her back awkwardly. Miss Bilge blew her nose loudly. “Well, if that ain’t the nicest thing … well, I just don’t know what is.”

  Josh grabbed Kathleen’s hand and squeezed it. He, too, seemed moved by the scene, and Kathleen could almost feel God’s stamp of approval as though He had put a period on a well-constructed sentence.

  Mr. Carpenter glanced at Josh. “If you are ready, I must be going, young man. My home needs considerable work, and I’d like to get to it.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m ready when you are.” Josh squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back later to take you home, Miss Bilge. And to take you for that ride,” he said, his gaze settling on Kathleen in a way that made her pulse leap.

  When the men had left, Mary Bilge stared at Kathleen for a long second. “That offer to save me a seat in church still standin’?”

  “Of course, Mary!”

  She moved her head in a jerky nod. “I guess iffen the Almighty can change a fellow like Myles, there might just be hope for me after all.”

  Kathleen’s lips curved into a smile, and delight rose in her chest. Oh, Lord, Your ways truly are so much greater than mine.

  School remained closed for the rest of the week, and each day Josh arrived by noon to take Kathleen for a sleigh ride. On Saturday she packed a picnic lunch. They sat together under a warm lap blanket in the cutter. The sun’s rays shimmered across the frozen lake and danced off the icicles hanging from the barren tree branches.

  “I’m sorry we missed the November dance.” Josh’s voice broke a long silence. Each knew this would be their last sleigh ride for a while as school would be back in session on Monday. The mood between them had been somewhat subdued.

  “I don’t suppose they’ll reschedule since the blizzard caused it to be canceled.”

  Josh shook his head. “Pa said the recreation committee decided two failed attempts were enough, and God must not want it to go on this year for some reason.”

  Disappointment crept over Kathleen. “I would have enjoyed dancing a waltz with you before I go home, Josh Truman.” She tried to keep her voice light, but even she could hear the false gaiety.

  He stretched his arm across the top of the seat and cupped her shoulder, pulling her to him. “I would have enjoyed a waltz, too, Kathleen Johnson.”

  As his face grew closer, Kathleen fought a battle inside. As much as she craved his embrace, she knew it wasn’t fair to either of them. She placed her palm against his chest and pushed slightly. “Josh, please. I’ve already told you that I have to go home in three weeks. Don’t make me take the memory of your kiss with me. If I do, how will I ever fall in love with a man in Rosewood?”

  A plethora of emotions seemed to cross his face as though he struggled with his next course of action. Finally, he squeezed her shoulder and released her. Kathleen struggled against the feelings rising in her. All the emotions she’d felt over the past few weeks came to the surface, and tears pricked her eyes.

  “Ah, Kat, don’t cry.”

  “Kat?” Only those nearest and dearest to her had ever called her by her pet name.

  “You don’t like it? Kat suits you so well.”

  She smiled without elaborating. “I like it.” Especially when it came from his lips.

  As though reading her thoughts, he raised her gloved hand to his mouth. He kissed each finger, then pressed her palm to his cheek. He closed his eyes. “I want to remember this moment.”

  “W–we have three weeks….”

  “My heart can’t take being alone with you and knowing you’ll never be mine. Every time I’m with you, I fall deeper in love.”

  Oh, how she knew what he meant. But it would be so lonely without him for the next three weeks. The last day of school was only one week before Christmas. Then she’d go home and never see Josh again.

  That night as she lay in bed listening to the sound of the mice scratching inside the walls, Kathleen remembered her brother’s words to her. “Kat, don’t make the same mistake I did. You might find that you don’t want to stay in Rosewood forever.”

  Not stay in Rosewood? The thought had never occurred to her. Not in a million years. But now …

  Was it possible?

  Chapter 9

  The next weeks moved frighteningly fast but at the same time crept along. Fast because Kathleen was busy with last-of-term grading and Christmas play practice. Slow because her sleeplessness had returned. She tossed and turned at night, her mind racing over and over with scenes from the moments she had shared with Josh. She had seen very little of him since the day at the lake, and she missed him. No longer did she lie awake weeping for her family in Rosewood, though she still longed to see them, as well. Now she wept for Josh. Precious Josh. Josh, who would never belong to her.

  The night of the Christmas play arrived with a chill in the air and a dampness that caused the old-timers to predict a blizzard was coming. There hadn’t been one flake of snow since the last blizzard, and everyone laughed off the predictions.

  The children buzzed with excitement. Kathleen pulled a visibly nervous Andrew Coon aside.

  “You’re going to be wonderful, Andrew. Thank you for being our Joseph.” The teen had been a model student since the encounter with Mr. Carpenter and had even taken the initiative with the other unruly children. He’d become another gift from God. “My pa came. Said it was about time I did somethin’ he could be proud of.”

  Andrew tried so hard to please the man—to make him proud. She patted his shoulder. “We’re about to start. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kathleen smiled and moved back to the front of the room.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, smiling at the crowd. A few returning smiles warmed her. Mr. and Mrs. Truman; the pastor and his wife; Mary Bilge, who sat beaming next to Myles. Much to the shock of the town, Myles had done an almost instant about-face and had stayed clean against dire predictions. He hadn’t missed a church service, nor had Mary
Bilge, and they’d recently taken up courting. Two more unlikely people Kathleen couldn’t imagine, but according to Mary, he was teaching her etiquette and proper speech, and she was teaching him to laugh. Perhaps God had sent two lonely souls to one another.

  Kathleen’s gaze landed on Josh standing in the back of the schoolroom, leaning against the wall. Her pulse quickened at his crooked smile. But there was no time to ponder her feelings; she had a play to oversee. “I would like to introduce our narrator for the evening—a truly brilliant man with a gift for literature—Mr. Myles Carpenter.”

  He seemed ill at ease as he stood and came to the front. When the idea had occurred to Kathleen that Mr. Carpenter’s beautiful deep voice and eloquence of speech would make him the perfect narrator, she’d approached him with caution. She needn’t have worried. He agreed to her request without question, and she had grown to love him more each day. At Kathleen’s encouragement, he often showed up during afternoon sessions and read portions from Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Tennyson, and even Edgar Allan Poe. The children adored him, and he rarely had occasion to reprimand.

  “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.” Kathleen came back to the present as Myles’s voice accentuated the words. She peeked at the audience to see if they were equally affected. The spellbound looks on their faces convinced her that Myles had a captive audience.

  Not a dry eye remained as he finished the story with Simeon and Anna’s blessing over the baby Jesus.

  Mary and Joseph smiled at each other and held their “baby,” which was actually made of straw.

  “And that, my friends,” Myles said, his voice shaking with awe, “concludes the wonderful story of the birth of our dear Lord.”

  For a long few seconds, no one moved, then slowly people began to clap, then stand. Kathleen had never been so moved by a Christmas play.