“Was he helping you?” Angie persisted.
“He was cleaning the stalls. We were out back, so we didn’t see him much.”
“Don’t send him away,” Angie said. “I may have been imagining things.” She touched his sleeve. “Besides, nothing showed that someone had been inside the house. Whoever it was probably didn’t come inside.”
They turned back toward the house. “I’m going to keep a closer eye on him from here on out,” Lane said.
She hated to ask the next question, but she had to. “Have you ever thought of putting locks on the outside doors?” Shivering, she pulled the cape tighter across her middle. “I had a creepy feeling this morning when I thought about a stranger lurking around our place.”
Lane shook his head sadly. “We’ve never needed to lock up anything around here. It’ll be a sorry day when we have to stoop to that.”
At the edge of the yard, Angie stopped. Lane turned to face her. “I’m sure I probably imagined it,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I’m almost sorry I mentioned it to you. I don’t want to upset you over nothing.”
His expression softened. “You’re worried. I can tell.” He touched her hand. “Are you sure about Hans? I could take him in to town and try to find him another job.”
“Please don’t do that. Judy would be so disappointed. She’s getting attached to him. So is—” Suddenly she clamped her jaw tight. What was she doing? She’d almost spoken aloud the suspicion that was slowly growing inside her. The suspicion that would surely wreck Angie’s carefully laid plans.
Instead of finishing her sentence, she said, “I’m cold. I’d best go back inside.” Without another word she hurried away from Lane and didn’t look back. With each new day she felt more uncertain about herself and everyone else. At this rate where would any of them end up? Angie, she told herself, you’re the only one who can end a game with everyone being the loser.
The first week of December Angie began to feel an excited expectancy. She chuckled with Saundra when they sat down to make their Christmas cooking list. She giggled with Judy while they planned special surprises for Lane. She smiled as she wrapped small presents in bits of colorful gingham and tied them with ribbon.
Soon after dawn on a Saturday morning, Lane and Angie, with Barry and Judy, wrapped themselves in triple layers of wool and headed for a stand of evergreens in the south pasture to find a Christmas tree. Judy chose the tallest tree in the grove, but Lane convinced her to change to one half that size. When the tree was loaded in the wagon, Angie and Barry climbed onto the back to sit on either side of the tree’s narrow trunk. Lane perched on the front seat and handled the reins. Too excited to sit down, Judy followed the wagon, dancing around like a clown acrobat toy on a bouncing stick until she grew tired. Then she climbed up to join her father.
Cutting a wide swath through ten inches of snow, Sheba circled around to the front of the house.
“Whoa, Sheba,” Lane called, leaning back on the reins.
The horse drew up near the little-used front door, and Lane jumped down to join Barry at the back of the wagon.
When Barry and Lane heaved the tree onto the porch, it landed quivering, full of wet, white clumps.
“This one’s still too big,” Lane said, panting. “We won’t be able to get it around the corner of the hall into the living room.” He gazed at the moving mound of branches and needles. “Funny how small it looked in the woods, and how huge it looks now.”
“Don’t cut it, Papa,” Judy begged. She whirled around, her mittens wide apart. “We haven’t had a tree in so long. I want a giant one.”
Lane raised his eyebrows and looked at Barry.
“I’m game if you are,” the younger man said.
“Let’s get a hot drink before we start,” Lane said, heading around the house toward the back door since the massive tree blocked the front door.
Saundra had hot coffee and cookies waiting for them. Hans had stayed behind to help her when the party set out to find a tree. When Lane had invited him to come along, Hans had said, “I’ve seen enough cold and snow to last me a lifetime. I’ll keep Saundra company.” He beamed at Saundra, and Angie stared. Was that a twinkle she’d glimpsed in Saundra’s eye?
Pulling her cape around her coat, Angie had stepped outside into the cold stillness of the porch. Why had she tried to interfere with the course of their lives? Things were becoming complicated beyond anything she had ever imagined.
Back in the kitchen after their excursion, the tree hunters drank the steaming black brew at the kitchen table, soaking in the warmth of the room, enjoying the smell of roasting beef wafting from the oven, and munching warm molasses cookies.
Unable to sit still for more than thirty seconds, Judy rubbed a chilly wet mitten across the back of Barry’s neck as she passed him. He sputtered coffee, set down the mug, and lunged for her. “You just wait, little missy,” he cried when she squealed and dodged away from him. “I may not get you today, but tomorrow’s coming mighty quick.”
Standing beside the counter with his back near the washbasin, Hans laughed. He shared a warm look with Saundra. “It feels so good to be with a family again,” he said. He lifted his own coffee mug. “To the Phillips family. May they prosper in this new year.”
Angie’s cold face crinkled when she smiled. “Why, thank you, Hans.”
Lane scooted back his chair. “Let’s get this job finished, Barry.”
The men moved a table and an upholstered chair to make room for the tree in front of a tall front-facing window. Angie rescued doilies and china figurines standing near the route they’d have to take to bring the giant fir inside.
She threw on her cape and took a broom outside to brush snow off the boughs. Shivering, her ears burning, she hurried inside to stand beside the crackling fireplace while Lane threw wide the front door. In seconds a frigid wind sucked every bit of warmth out of the house.
With leather-gloved hands the men tugged at the rough tree trunk until the widest branches scraped across the threshold. Pine needles brushed both walls down the hall, making a whisking noise and leaving wet streaks on the plaster.
As Lane predicted, at the corner into the living room, the tree caught in a bind. It wouldn’t move another inch.
“Push it your way,” Lane said between breaths, jerking the trunk up and down to dislodge it.
“Can’t,” Barry said, diving underneath for a look. “Ow! This thing has sharp needles.”
Saundra and Hans appeared in the kitchen door intent on the trouble in the hallway.
“What do you see?” Lane asked Barry, who lay under the tree.
“The doorjamb is holding some branches so they can’t move.” Barry pressed up on an armful of pine boughs. No good. He crawled out from under, his coat covered with clinging flecks of green.
“We’ll have to cut it,” Lane said.
Judy stood nearby, a small, freckled hand over her mouth and an anxious expression about her eyes. Lane glanced at her then gazed into Angie’s hopeful face. A determined tightness came into his jaw. He backed away to look over the situation. “Say, Barry, how about if we raise the bottom more?”
“More? You know how heavy this thing is?”
Lane took the cut end of the trunk in both hands. “When I say so, heave.” He drew in a breath. “One…two…three…heave!”
The tree lurched and lunged like a living thing. It sprang through the door and landed in a rustling heap on the hooked rug, scattering pine needles from hallway to hearth and knocking a tintype of Lane’s parents off the wall.
“Yippee!” Judy hopped about, hugging a surprised Saundra, wrapping her arms around Barry, and bouncing away. She flew right back to throw her arms around Hans for a quick, breath-stopping hug then dashed through the room chanting, “We did it! We did it!”
“We did what?” Barry demanded, touching his scratched face. “I didn’t see you lift anything.” He grinned widely and pretended to punch her chin.
Lifting the
tree upright, the men slid the trunk into a wide bucket filled with dirt they’d chopped loose from the frozen garden. Lane nailed three wooden slats to the trunk for bracing. The top spire brushed the ten-foot ceiling.
Standing back to admire his work, Lane dusted his clothes. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.” He grinned at Angie. “It sure looks nice.”
Moving close enough to Lane to sense his presence, she wrapped her arms across her middle and filled her lungs with a pungent pine aroma. A hundred memories washed over her.
While they stood there lost in another time, another life, Barry and Saundra left the room to bring water for the tree and a broom to tidy the floor. Hans bustled after them.
After a long moment, Lane said, “Why didn’t we do this before? I’d forgotten what it was like.”
Judy snuggled against her father’s side. “We’re going to make popcorn and drink cocoa and sing carols, too.”
Lane smiled down into her happy face.
“I’ll get the decorations!” she said, dashing up the stairs.
Angie moved toward the door. “I guess I’d better find the popcorn.”
All afternoon they sang and teased while transforming the living room into a Christmas haven. Angie found a box of her mother’s china ornaments in a back cupboard and brought them out: a sled, a sleigh, and a golden harp.
“Saundra, you didn’t!” Hans exclaimed when Saundra opened a box of white candles. He looked almost as excited as Judy. “I haven’t seen candles on a tree since I was a libeling in Germany.”
“I had to bring them,” Saundra said. “It wouldn’t seem like Christmas to me without candles.” She pulled a roll of fine wire from her pocket. “Would you care to help me put them on the tree?”
“Mit pleasure,” Hans said. He smiled into Saundra’s eyes, and something passed between them, something intangible but very real.
Saundra’s creamy cheeks turned a light shade of pink. She picked up two candles and busied herself at the tree. Hans followed suit.
Judy picked up a candle. “How do you fasten it to the tree, Saundra?” she asked, peering at the bottom of the wax.
“Here.” Saundra handed her a fine silver wire about ten inches long. “Twist the wire around the bottom of the candle and fasten it to a branch.” She stepped back and lifted a branch beside her. “Like this one. It’s easy.”
Judy’s mouth puckered as she concentrated. When she stepped back, the candle sagged and slowly pointed toward the floorboards.
Hans chuckled. “Let me help you,” he said. Though calloused, his short fingers moved with deft speed. “There. See how I did it?”
Judy bent down until her nose almost touched the wax. “Oh, yeah. Now I see.” She reached for another candle. “Let me try again.”
Even unlit, Saundra’s white candles shone against dark green boughs.
“Can’t we light them right away?” Judy begged.
“Let’s wait,” Angie told her. “If we light them now, we won’t have any left for Christmas Eve.” She shook the bowl of popcorn in her lap. “As big as this tree is, I’ll be stringing popcorn until Christmas Day.”
Angie found needles for everyone while Hans fetched a large bowl of fresh cranberries from the kitchen, and they started stringing in earnest. They ate more popcorn than they skewered. Their hands turned crimson with cranberry juice, and their fingers suffered countless needle pricks; yet their homemade garlands grew long enough to wrap the broad giant five times around.
With shining eyes Judy brought out her crocheted angel, now stiffly starched and majestic. Lane placed a step stool on a tabletop then climbed up to trim down the topmost branch and fasten the angel on top.
A few minutes later Saundra carried in a tray filled with steaming mugs of honeyed milk and a plate of golden cookies. While the others helped themselves to refreshments, she ran lightly up the stairs and came back with a shoe box in her hands. “My father bought this in Heidelberg just before we came to America. Would you mind if I set it on the mantle shelf?”
She moved to the sofa where Barry and Angie sat together. Hans stood at her elbow. Judy knelt on the rug beside Saundra so she could watch as Saundra lifted the lid.
Chapter 12
In a bed of yellow straw lay a ceramic crèche with a golden star on a fine wire beside it.
“Saundra, how lovely!” Angie exclaimed. “It’s kind of you to share it with us.” She moved two lanterns from the center of the mantel shelf to the sides to make room.
Saundra placed the tiny stable in the center of the thick oak shelf and covered the stable floor using straw from the box. With reverent care she placed the figures of Joseph, Mary, and the baby Jesus within the brown walls and positioned shepherds and animals outside. Last she hooked the fine wire into a hole at the back of the roof. The star glowed in lantern light radiating from both sides.
Eyes glistening, she looked around at each member of the family gathered there. “When my father was living, he always used to recite a special prayer after I set out the crèche. Would you mind if I say it?”
Lane cleared his throat. “Please do.”
They all bowed their heads except Angie. She couldn’t stop watching the tall man before her, his face bent low as Saundra prayed, his intent expression revealing emotions that ran as deep as a mountain spring.
“Dear Father,” Saundra prayed, “I thank You for bringing us to this new land, to a new life. I thank You for sending Your Son to a new land one day long ago. We came here to find a better living. He came here to bear our sorrows, our suffering, our sin. Help us to remember always His greatest gift. Amen.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and touched her cheeks.
Weeping openly, Hans mopped his face with a blue bandanna. He sniffed loudly and blew with a honking noise.
Lane turned away and stared at the tree. Or was it the dark window that had his attention? From the side Angie saw him swallow hard. She pulled in her lower lip and blinked twice, squeezing her eyelids tight each time.
Barry broke the mood. “How about a game of charades?”
“Goody! Goody!” Judy cried, jumping on tiptoe.
Smiling through her tears, Saundra nodded. “We used to play it at Harvard.”
“I’ve got Angie on my team!” Judy cried.
Lane stood, stretched, and ambled toward the kitchen. A moment later the back door thumped.
Angie heard it. Her heart went with him.
The games continued until half past eight. Barry teamed with Saundra while Hans cheered them all on from his seat by the fire. Finally Saundra held up her hands. “No more for me, please. I’m too tired to think.”
“Me, too,” Barry said, reaching his arms high and arching his back.
Hans stood and set empty mugs on the tray. Saundra stepped over to help him.
“Don’t bother clearing away the dishes,” Angie told them. “You’re both tired. I’ll take care of them.” She poked Judy’s ribs. “It’s half an hour past your bedtime. School tomorrow, remember?”
Judy groaned. “A whole week until vacation.” Following Saundra, she stopped on the stairs to lean over the banister and admire the tree from a new vantage point.
“Judy,” Angie called, a warning in her voice.
The girl skipped up the stairs, and a door banged shut.
Hans paused at the door and looked back toward Angie. He spoke softly, his words humble and sincere. “I want to thank you for letting me join the family tonight. Most people would have sent me to the bunkhouse so the family could have time alone.”
“Hans!” Angie murmured. “We’re happy the Lord led you here. We’re enjoying your company.”
Hans’s expression took on a look of uncertainty. His gaze shifted away from Angie’s. “Good night,” he blurted out, then hurried away.
Angie continued gazing at the space where he’d stood. Why had his manner changed so abruptly? The longer she was around Hans the more she felt that something was wrong. Yet he was so open and friendly at ti
mes. He seemed so tenderhearted. How could it be?
Barry’s flannel sleeve pressed her arm, and she looked up. “It was a nice evening,” he said, stepping close to her. She could see the individual bristles on his stubbled chin.
“One of the best I can remember,” she said. Without meeting his gaze, she moved away to gather the last two empty mugs.
“How about a walk in the moonlight?” he asked, following her.
She held Lane’s mug and felt the rim, thinking she ought to go with Barry but feeling reluctant somehow. “I’ve had a busy day, Barry. Maybe tomorrow night.”
He hesitated, pursing his lips and watching her carefully.
Angie lifted the tray. “Good night, Barry.”
Still gazing at her, his expression blank, he lingered a moment longer before he headed outdoors to his quarters. Angie carried the tray to the kitchen. She felt bad about putting Barry off, but she wasn’t in the mood for his light banter or his insistent advances. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever been in the mood for them.
Coming in from the barn, Lane passed her in the hall without looking at her. He entered the living room. His sober face made Angie’s heart ache.
Washing out the mugs, Angie wished she could ask Lane’s advice about her mixed emotions for Barry, but it was hard to talk about something one couldn’t define.
On her way upstairs she stopped in the living room doorway. Lane sat on the sofa, staring into the fire.
“Would you like something more to drink?” she asked.
He gazed at her until she wondered if he’d heard her question. “Do you remember Charlotte’s eyes?” he asked softly. “I can’t remember them. I know they were dark like yours, but I can’t see them anymore.” His brows drew together. “I lie awake some nights trying to see her in my mind the way I used to.”
Padding into the room, she eased into a chair across from him. The fire popped, sending sparks in a shower against the metal screen.
“She had half-moon eyes,” Angie told him, “with dark, thick lashes.”
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