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

by Prairie Christmas Collection

  That evening when Lane arrived, Mantie saw his gaze immediately seek her out. She recognized the thinly veiled joy at seeing her. She shifted her gaze away and answered his warm greeting with a cool hello.

  During the meal she continued to avoid his gaze and responded to his attempts at conversation with stiff politeness. She could feel his confusion at her attitude but did nothing to dispel it. Speaking frankly in front of the family wasn’t to be considered.

  After the meal, as Mantie gathered dishes into the wash pan, Alice whispered, “Brrr. I can feel the blizzard is back.”

  Mantie shot her an angry look. “It was never gone.”

  “Wasn’t it? My mistake.”

  Across the room, Lane cleared his throat. “Nate and I will be heading home now. Thank you kindly for supper, ladies. It was delicious as always.”

  “Aw, Lane, can’t we stay awhile?” Nate pleaded. “You and Walt haven’t even played checkers yet.”

  “Big night tomorrow, Nate. Christmas Eve. You want to be rested up.”

  Mantie kept her back to the door and her hands busy, all the while listening to the good-byes. She tried to forget the hurt, pleading look she’d seen in Lane’s gray eyes in the last glance of him she’d allowed herself.

  Later, when the others were in bed, Mantie sat beside the kitchen table, a soft warm shawl about her shoulders, putting the finishing touches on the collar she was crocheting for Alice’s Christmas gift. Her thoughts stubbornly refused to stay on her work. They drifted instead to Lane.

  When the last stitch was made, she studied the collar. In spite of her wandering thoughts, the collar looked just as it should. Mantie rested her head against the back of the rocking chair and closed her eyes.

  Why am I letting this man slip into my heart, Lord? I don’t want to stop loving Colin. I never want to forget the beautiful love we shared.

  Abe’s face appeared in her mind.

  She frowned. Why had she thought of him? Alice had accused her of being as cold toward men as Abe was toward women. Yet she certainly hadn’t been cold toward Lane. That was the problem.

  But Lane had said something else about Abe. She struggled to clear the memory in her tired mind. Lane had said when some people lose people they love, they try to stop loving people so they won’t risk the pain of loss again.

  Is that what I’ve done, Lord?

  No. She wouldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe her love for Colin was an illusion she’d clung to in order to keep at bay the possibility of loving and losing again. Her love for Colin had been real and strong.

  But he was gone, and Lane Powell was here. Last night her heart had been light and filled with wonder and joy. It had felt good to be happy again because a man liked her. All day she’d fought that happiness and her guilt. Tonight, she was tired, weary to her very bones.

  Lane lay awake long into the night. His heart felt bruised by Mantie’s cold rebuff.

  How could I have been such a fool, Lord? I knew I needed to work up slow to asking her to keep steady company. To kiss her, to actually kiss her … Lane groaned and buried his face in his pillow. Her kisses had been wonderful, and she’d offered them willingly, he had no doubt of that. But he knew her heart still belonged to Colin.

  Will she ever allow me another chance, Lord, or have I destroyed any opportunity that she might grow to love me?

  Chapter 10

  Mantie and Alice banked the fire in the kitchen stove before leaving for church the next evening. They’d eat supper following the service. Pots and kettles and roasting pans covered the top of the stove and filled the oven. The food would stay relatively warm even with the fire banked. It wouldn’t take too long to have the meal ready when they returned.

  Jesse and Jenny could barely contain their excitement. Gifts wouldn’t be opened until the morning, but Christmas Eve was still special. Their excitement was contagious. Mantie’s spirits lifted, even knowing Lane would be spending the evening with them.

  Alice spoke of that point while she and Mantie put on their capes and gloves. “I hope you can find it in your heart to be kinder to Lane tonight than last night. After all, it is Christmas. You might make an effort not to take the joy out of the evening for him.”

  Her words stung, but Mantie was in no mood to let down her defenses. What if she couldn’t build them up again?

  The early evening was crisp, but the family was too excited to mind. There were no skaters to watch as they crossed the bridge. Everyone in town would be at church. Even Peace’s three saloons were closed in honor of Christ’s birth.

  The road was filled with sleighs, wagons on runners, and people walking. Every group carried lanterns, the light swinging in merry golden squares on the snow. Cheerful greetings of “Blessed Christmas to you” were offered and received again and again.

  The school bell was bonging when the family arrived at the schoolhouse, reminding stragglers the service would soon begin. They were among the last to find room to sit down, but those who stood didn’t complain. Like many people, the Clarks extinguished their lantern lights upon entering the church. A few lanterns remained burning, but there was no need for everyone to waste their candles.

  Mantie’s gaze swept the crowd. She saw Lane and Nate seated near the front on the opposite side of the room and felt a tug at her heart. Frightened by the attraction she felt for Lane, she looked away.

  What is happening to me, Lord? she prayed silently. If I truly loved Colin, how can that love be swept away so suddenly?

  The service began with a hymn. Mantie turned her mind to God’s gift. She wished there were a piano to accompany the group but was grateful for the reverend’s fiddle. Certainly the lack of a piano didn’t dampen the joy in the congregation’s hearts and voices.

  The reverend led everyone in prayer, then read the beautiful Christmas story, telling of Christ’s birth.

  “A new member of our community has a gift for you tonight,” he announced after the reading. “Mr. Lane Powell told me of a Christmas Eve tradition in a church back in Pennsylvania where he grew up. He asked if he might share it with you tonight. I was pleased to say yes. Would everyone extinguish their lanterns, please? And all the children under twelve please come to the front.”

  Whispers and shifting feet filled the room with a sense of confusion. Lanterns were extinguished. Only one lantern, on the teacher’s table at the front of the room, remained lit. Children made their way to the front. An occasional “Ouch” and “Sorry” marked their paths.

  Lane reached into a basket near the lit lantern and took out a candle. Lifting a window of the lantern with a candlesnuffer, he lit the candle, then extinguished the lantern. The candle he held cast light on his hand and his chin, but not much else.

  A little light emanated from the stove in the middle of the room. The drape-less windows were pale gray, as the moon wasn’t yet shining in its glory.

  “When Christ came to earth as a little baby,” Lane began, “He was like this little candle flame. This one candle doesn’t cast a very big light, does it?”

  The children answered with a chorus of timid no’s.

  “What do you think Christ’s light was?” Lane asked.

  None of the children ventured a guess.

  “I’m sure you know,” Lane encouraged. “What did Christ bring us?”

  “Forgiveness,” Nate suggested. “Why did He bring us forgiveness?”

  “Because He loves us,” another boy replied.

  “Why does He love us?”

  Silence. Then Jenny piped up. “Because He’s God’s Son, and God is love.”

  “That’s right. So what do you suppose is the light baby Jesus brought to the world?”

  “Love. God’s love,” the children eagerly answered.

  “How did the little light of God’s love, which the baby Jesus brought, grow large enough to light the world?” Lane touched another candlewick to the flame. It flared into light. He held the candle out. “Here, take it.”

  One of
the children held the candle.

  “How did the little light grow?” he asked again.

  “He gave it away,” Jenny answered.

  “He shared it,” another said.

  “That’s right,” Lane agreed. “Jesus said, ‘This is My commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you.’ “

  In the candlelight, Mantie could just make out Lane picking up the basket from the table and holding it out toward the children. “Nate, would you pass these out?”

  From the movement and shadows, it was obvious Nate did as he was asked.

  Lane whispered something Mantie couldn’t hear. In a moment another candle flamed. Then another. Soon all the children held lighted tapers.

  “See how bright the light shines when we share it with another?” Lane asked. “Take your candles back to your families, and light your families’ lanterns.”

  The children did as he asked. As they returned to their seats, the light that had been concentrated around the teacher’s desk spread throughout the room. When the lanterns were lit, few shadows remained.

  Wavering image. The phrase from Longfellow’s poem flickered through Mantie’s mind as she looked about the room at the many candle flames—wavering images symbolizing God’s love.

  Mantie glanced down at Jenny’s candle. A smile tugged at Mantie’s lips. A red ribbon tied low around the candle in a bow protected Jenny’s fingers from dripping wax.

  Thank You, Lord. Mantie’s heart swelled in gratitude. Her prayer was answered.

  Lane, Abe, and Nate walked to the Clarks’ house with the family. Mantie was anxious to speak with Lane but not with the family around. She did walk beside him long enough to say without the others hearing, “I’m sorry I acted so snobbish last night. I hope you can forgive me.”

  He looked wary but nodded.

  Relieved, she fell into step beside Jenny. Lane’s cautious look made Mantie a little uneasy. Perhaps he wouldn’t find it possible to forgive her to the extent he’d trust her enough to keep company with her, but at least things should be more comfortable between them among the family this evening. All she could do was offer that bridge of peace and trust the Lord to work the rest out as He saw best.

  The scent of pine from the decorations mixed with the cooking aromas as the family entered the house. Mantie, Alice, and Jenny bustled to get supper ready. The women donned their best aprons. The fire in the kitchen stove was stirred. The table was set with the best china and napkins.

  Walter had milked the cow and checked on the horses before leaving for church, so there was no need to change out of his church suit. Alice shooed the men into the parlor, where Walter lit the stove to warm the room for family gathering later.

  So many serving platters and bowls filled the table that Walter observed as he sat down, “Hardly room for our plates.” Oyster stew started the meal. Roast turkey with oyster stuffing centered the main course. Sweet potatoes, carrots in cream sauce, boiled onions, ruby jelly, and sweet rolls filled it out.

  Mantie was disappointed to find herself seated on the same side of the table as Lane, with Nate between them. It afforded her no opportunity to show him by her smiles that she wished to return to friendlier times.

  “Where do oysters come from?” Nate asked.

  “The ocean,” Lane told him.

  Nate gave Lane a look of disgust. “No, they don’t. The ocean is far away.”

  His observation brought a chuckle from the adults.

  “You’re right,” Mantie assured him. “The ocean is far away. The oysters are sent to Minnesota by boats on the Mississippi River or the Great Lakes, or across land on the railroad. Some are packed in buckets with ice on top so they don’t spoil. Others are canned. It takes a lot of work to get oysters to Minnesota.”

  “Do you believe Mantie?” Jenny challenged.

  Nate heaved a sigh. “I guess so. Even though she isn’t a real teacher, she teaches sometimes, so she must be pretty smart.”

  His comment set the others laughing again, but beneath the laughter, Mantie heard Lane murmur, “That she is, Nate.” She missed much of the rest of the conversation. Her mind was filled with arguments for and against allowing Lane into her life as a suitor.

  Fruitcake and apple pie left everyone content at meal’s end. “We’ll serve coffee and cookies in the parlor,” Alice informed everyone.

  The children’s coffee was liberally doctored with milk and sugar. Jenny sat on the edge of her chair in the parlor, balancing her china cup and saucer in a masterful attempt at imitating a lady. At Jenny’s urging, Alice shared stories of her childhood Christmases. Then the children insisted on Lane’s Christmas stories, and Abe’s and Mantie’s and finally Walter’s.

  While Walter regaled the children, Mantie took the almost empty china cookie platter to the kitchen to replenish it. When she came out of the pantry, Lane was waiting for her beside the kitchen table.

  “Alice sent me out here to help you.” His voice was more guarded than usual.

  She set the platter down on the table, hoping he wouldn’t see how her hands trembled. Her smile trembled, too, as she looked up at him. “I don’t need your help, but would you wait here for me a moment?”

  His brows drew together in a mystified frown, but he nodded.

  Mantie hurried up to her room, retrieved a small package, and hurried back down. Her heart pounded wildly. Would he think her unseemly in offering him this gift?

  “Since you won’t be here tomorrow, I’d like you to have this now.” She handed him the package. It was about as long as her hand, thin, and wrapped in a piece of the emerald-green silk from her favorite dress. A length of black ribbon tied it closed.

  Light kindled in his gray eyes. For a moment Mantie thought he was going to hug her, but he didn’t.

  His wide fingers struggled with the ribbon, but eventually he freed the package and unfolded the material carefully. Inside was a crocheted ivory bookmark. His gaze examined it carefully, then shifted to meet hers. Wonder shone from his eyes. “You made this for me?”

  She nodded, feeling shier now than before he’d opened it. “It’s for your Bible. Or your poetry.”

  “I’ll cherish it. Thank you.”

  The sincerity in his voice warmed her.

  He grinned. “I’ve something for you, too.” He removed a leather bag from the pegs beside the door and pulled a package from it. The package was wrapped in brown paper and tied with red twine. “Not wrapped so fancy as the gift you gave me, but that doesn’t diminish the thought.”

  She knew from the weight and feel what it was as soon as she took the package. Excitement sparked through her. She couldn’t hold back a grin. She pulled off the paper with such speed that it brought a laugh from Lane. “Skate blades. Oh, they’re the perfect gift. Thank you, Lane. Thank you.”

  “What do you say we try them out? I brought my own blades along, just in case I could convince you.”

  Mantie glanced at the door to the parlor. “We probably shouldn’t go right now.” Everything within her hungered to leave immediately for the river.

  “They won’t miss us much.”

  That was all it took to convince her. They hurried into their outer garments, giggling like children. They were just leaving when Mantie heard Alice say, “Mantie, are the cookies ready yet? Mantie? Lane? Where are you going?”

  “Skating,” Lane called and closed the door firmly behind them.

  Only half a dozen other skaters were enjoying the crisp night on the river. Mantie and Lane sat on a fallen log and strapped on their skate blades. When they were ready, Lane stood and held out his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his, smiling, and slid her other hand into her muff.

  “Let’s try a few laps around the millpond first, where the ice is smoother,” Lane suggested.

  She stepped onto the ice with caution. Her first strokes wobbled. Her grip on his hand tightened. “It’s been such a long time.”

  “We’ll take it slow. You’ll get the feel of it
again before long.”

  “It might not be much fun for you skating with me. If you’d rather go off by yourself for a while, I won’t mind.”

  He slid an arm around her waist. “I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world.”

  She wondered whether he was referring to skating or romance.

  She forced her mind away from his nearness and concentrated on leaning into the outside edges of her skates and keeping her balance over the ball of her foot. Before long her strokes were easy and smooth alongside Lane’s.

  “There, see? You haven’t forgotten how,” he encouraged.

  Their blades sang in unison as he matched his strokes to hers. They moved well and easily together. “Ready to try the river?”

  “Yes.”

  They skated beneath the arch of the stone bridge. The moon lay a golden path before them. Trees cast blue shadows across the snow-covered banks. Stars burned brightly in the sky overhead. Mantie sighed in contentment.

  He grinned. “Your eyes are shining with excitement.”

  “It’s more perfect than I remember. Thank you so much for the blades.”

  “You are so welcome.” He shifted his weight slightly, drawing her nearer to his side.

  Her heart picked up its beat. She heard him clear his throat. “Mantie, when you asked me to forgive you earlier …”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m the one who should be asking your forgiveness.”

  “Mine?” Surprise poured through her.

  He nodded. “You told me how devoted you are to Colin. I had no right kissing you.”

  Was he sorry he’d kissed her? Mantie’s thoughts and emotions tumbled into a mess. Surely he must have realized how she’d welcomed his kisses. But he’d properly interpreted her coldness last night. Now what was she going to do? “I liked your gift to the church tonight.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few strokes. “Aren’t you changing the subject?”

  “Not exactly. I liked what you said about Christ’s love being like a candle flame, how it grows when it’s shared.”