The Christmas Token

by Shanna Hatfield

  “I ate breakfast with Abby and Chauncy. Miss Erin wanted some fresh air and decided she would help me take Samson to the livery for his breakfast. I apologize for leaving him here last night. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until I arrived home,” Blake said, chagrined by the admission. “May I pay you for the feed?”

  Laughing, Luke slapped him on the back good-naturedly. “Absolutely not. I feel like I should apologize for Ginny. She means well, I think, but that girl… I’ve given her some things to think about and starting today, I hope she plans to turn her excess energies toward more fruitful endeavors.”

  “Thank you, Luke. No apology necessary on your part,” Blake said, stamping his feet and wiping them before stepping into Filly’s clean kitchen. “I should probably offer mine to your sister, though. Between raising my voice and losing my temper yesterday, she probably thinks the worst of me.”

  “Let her simmer for a while. She could stand to learn a lesson or two,” Luke said with a grin as he divested Erin of her scarf, mittens and coat. “Now, young lady, let’s go see if we can find your Aunt Filly.”

  Before Luke could grab her hand, Erin took off running toward the front of the house calling for “Aunt Fiwwy.”

  Luke shook his head and hung his outerwear by the door. “Will you be able to finish the woodwork this week?” Following Blake down the hall and up the back stairs, the men stood looking at the progress he’d made in replacing the ruined wood.

  “If I don’t finish today, I will definitely complete the project tomorrow,” Blake said, setting his hat and coat on a chair and picking up a piece of smooth wood. “At least I should as long as I don’t have any further distractions.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Ginny today, but Erin might be another story. I’ll take her home on my way to the bank,” Luke said, admiring the fine quality of Blake’s work.

  “I’d be happy to run her home. I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt your morning or Filly’s, for that matter,” Blake said, starting toward the stairs. Luke waved him back to the room.

  “We don’t mind having her here, not at all. We’ll make sure she gets back home. Eventually,” Luke said, clomping down the stairs. Blake heard Erin’s giggles and smiled as he returned to his work.

  Concentrating on his efforts to finish the project, he heard pattering steps and looked up to see Erin run in the room. Before she could grab a sharp tool or trip on a piece of wood, he scooped her up and kissed her rosy cheek.

  “Did you come up by yourself?” he asked, smiling at the lively child.

  “No. Ginny come, too,” Erin said, bouncing in his arms.

  Blake saw Ginny standing in the doorway watching him, looking lovely as always. The pale blue suit she wore featured dark gray trim and accented the blue depths of her eyes.

  “Miss Granger,” he said, tipping his head her direction although he kept his face blank of emotion. Recalling the turmoil she created the previous afternoon made it easier to keep from uttering a word of apology for his outburst in the library.

  “Mr. Stratton,” she said, casting a cool glare his direction. “My brother has requested I offer you a sincere word of regret for my misguided attempts at providing unsolicitied assistance to your business enterprises.”

  Blake couldn’t stop a grin from lifting the corners of his mouth. Stepping nearer to Ginny, he stood looking down at the pile of golden curls on her head and inhaled her light floral fragrance. “If that is your pathetic and quite artificial attempt at an apology, I suppose I shall have to accept. Is that really the best you can do?”

  “Humph,” Ginny said, holding her hands at her sides to keep from slapping the smirk right off Blake’s face. How the man frustrated her! He left her annoyed and unsettled and… so wanting of his kiss yesterday. The feeling was just as strong now. Even more so as she watched the loving way he interacted with the little girl held in his arms. “Say your goodbye to Mr. Stratton, Erin. We need to get you back home.”

  The little girl frowned at Ginny before wrapping her chubby little arms around Blake’s neck and delivering a sloppy kiss to his chin. “Bye, Unca Bake. Feed horsey morrow?”

  “Another day, honey. We’ll feed Samson another day. Okay?” Blake said, running a gentle hand over her head of dark curls before kissing her cheek. “You go along with Miss Ginny now.”

  “Bye, Unca Bake!” Erin said, waving again as Ginny took her other hand and led her toward the stairs. He could hear the little girl chattering as they went. When Erin asked Ginny if she would kiss Blake, he heard, “Good heavens!” float into the room, making him chuckle.

  He had no doubt Ginny needed a kiss.

  Not just any kiss, though. One delivered by a man who loved her completely. A man who would give her his whole heart. A man who stirred her passion and captured her soul.

  Blake wasn’t sure how long it would take to convince himself he was the man for the job.

  Chapter Six

  Stepping out into the chilly morning air, Luke carried Erin while Ginny strolled beside him, oblivious to the child’s chatter as they walked toward the parsonage.

  Her thoughts lingered on the man working in the upstairs bedroom at her brother’s house. Stepping into the room and seeing him hold Erin so tenderly did the most peculiar things to her heart.

  A vision of a golden-haired child with an abundance of unruly curls and his soulful hazel eyes made the breath catch in her throat. Wanting to run from the room and far away from Hardman, the threat Blake represented to her plans and freedom made him far more dangerous to her than Nigel Pickford.

  Nigel was a weak man she despised and looked at as an annoying bother.

  Blake, however, was someone who held her admiration and respect, as well as her heart.

  The realization of that fact caused her to trip on the boardwalk. Luke’s quick hand to her arm was all that kept her from going to her knees. Her fingers crept to her pocket and ran over the little wooden token she’d placed there. She knew it was silly, but the heartfelt gift from Blake meant more to her than all the expensive belongings she possessed.

  “Careful, Ginny, the sun hasn’t melted all the frost yet this morning and the boardwalk can be slick,” he said, studying his sister with a thoughtful expression as they neared the parsonage. “Are you well?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just fine,” Ginny said, waving her hand dismissively at Luke as he opened the parsonage’s back door and handed Erin to her mother. Abby invited them in for a cup of tea, but Luke refused, saying they had some business to attend to before he went to the bank.

  “Are you sure you feel well, Ginny? Your face is pale,” Luke said, concern making him remove a glove and press his palm to her forehead. She batted his hand away and kept walking. “I’m fine, Luke, but thank you for your concern.”

  “If you’re sure, let’s go see if you can dazzle Mr. Daily into a job,” Luke teased as they neared the newspaper office and went inside.

  Twenty minutes later, Ginny found herself gainfully employed on a part-time basis, starting that afternoon.

  “Congratulations, Ginny Lou. You are officially on your way to being a fully independent woman,” Luke said, smiling broadly as they walked to the bank. His big hand rested comfortingly on her shoulder.

  Pleased that Luke didn’t say a word while she spoke with Mr. Daily, she squeezed his arm and looked up at him with a happy expression, grateful for his support. From her experience, she knew most men thought women belonged at home, cooking, cleaning, and rearing children.

  Her brother had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, be her own person, and think for herself.

  Stopping suddenly, she looked at him. “Luke, thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, not used to Ginny expressing true gratitude, but he could see the sincerity written across her face.

  “I appreciate you encouraging me, albeit in a rather overbearing way, to pursue something worthwhile. Most men would condemn me to marriage and domesticity. You�
��ve never once suggested that is what I should do with my life,” Ginny said, impulsively hugging her brother. “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. You can ask Filly if you don’t believe me, but I think everyone should have the opportunity to pursue their dreams, whatever they may be,” Luke said, grinning wickedly as he looked down at her with twinkling eyes. “Besides, no man deserves to be sentenced to eating your cooking on a daily basis.”

  “You are every bit as horrid as you were as a boy. Now go to work, banker man. I’m going home to share my good news with your wife.”

  “I’m proud of you, Ginny,” Luke called as he stepped into the bank.

  Ginny brushed at the tears his words generated and hurried her step to Granger House, excited to tell Filly about her new job.

  “Miss Granger, could you please come here a moment?” Ed Daily called as he sat at his desk, editing Ginny’s latest article. With the Thanksgiving holiday approaching, she’d written a nice piece about the service planned at the church and the community potluck slated afterward.

  Worried she’d have little talent for writing, Ed gave her a job because Luke asked him to take a chance on the girl. Surprisingly, she had a way with words, a quick mind, and didn’t appear to mind doing whatever story he asked of her. She refused to learn to use the press, though, and often submitted articles he did not request.

  Both her writing and her discernment about what was appropriate subject matter for his newspaper were improving, however.

  She’d been working for him about a week when she slid an article on his desk about Melanie LaRoux running off with some flimflam salesman passing through town.

  While Ed thought the spiteful and cruel Miss LaRoux, a girl Luke had courted until he married Filly, certainly deserved to have her latest turn of bad judgment plastered across his front page, he stayed far away from that type of news.

  After explaining to Miss Granger why her article was completely unacceptable, she rewrote it in such a way that it conveyed the news without pointing fingers.

  Although she would sigh and complain if he asked her to rewrite something, she did seem eager to learn and willing to keep working at a story until he was satisfied with the results.

  “Yes, Mr. Daily?” Ginny asked, stepping into his office. She wondered what she’d done wrong now, because that seemed to be the only time Mr. Daily summoned her to his office. Learning more than she ever hoped to about writing and the newspaper business, she’d have told him weeks ago what she thought of his brusque manner except she enjoyed her work.

  “I want to speak with you about your Thanksgiving article.” Ed looked at her over the rim of his spectacles, maintaining a gruff expression.

  “Yes? Did I misrepresent something? Leave out an important detail?” Ginny asked, holding out her hand to take back the copy and rewrite it.

  Ed laid his hand over the article and leaned back in his chair. The smallest of smiles started forming at the corner of his mouth and he quirked a bushy gray eyebrow Ginny’s direction. “Actually, you did everything perfectly. I wanted to commend you on a job well done.”

  “Oh,” Ginny said, caught off guard by the praise from her meticulous employer. He’d picked apart every article she’d written. To hear a word of praise took her by surprise. Unable to respond immediately, she finally found her voice. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that very much.”

  Ed nodded then cleared his throat.

  “Don’t let it go to your head, young lady,” Ed admonished, then pointed his pencil at Ginny. “I’ve got a new assignment for you.”

  “What exciting news will I be covering now? Did Mrs. Jenkins find out who made her a new rolling pin and left it in her henhouse, or maybe Mrs. Ferguson discovered who left the new cutting board on her back step?” Ginny fought the urge to smile, thinking about the strange stories some of the locals concocted. Imagine, thinking some mysterious person was going around leaving gifts for people.

  “Actually, I’d like you to interview Blake Stratton. He’s making new pews for the Christian Church and I’d like you to write an article detailing his work. I’ll expect it to be on my desk the day after tomorrow.” Ed dropped his gaze to his desk, shuffled some papers and motioned toward the door, indicating it was time for Ginny to leave.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, turning around so he wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. The last person she wanted to interview was Blake. Since the day he’d brought Erin with him to the house, she hadn’t spoken to him. At church, he somehow managed to escape before most of the congregation could get out of their seats. Other than catching a glimpse of him here and there about town, she managed to avoid him.

  Apparently, he was ignoring her as well, since he’d refused the invitations Luke and Filly extended to him for dinner on numerous occasions. Insisting he join them for Thanksgiving Day, Ginny wondered how they’d pretend the other didn’t exist when they would no doubt be seated in close proximity at the dinner table.

  Deciding to get the interview over with instead of dreading it, Ginny put on her hat and coat, wrapped her scarf, the same rich shade of blue as her eyes, around her neck and tugged on her gloves. Picking up her reticule, a notepad, and a pencil, she took a deep breath and sailed out the door.

  Blake lived just a few miles out of town and since the sun was shining, she didn’t mind the chilly bite in the air as she strolled in the direction of his place. She could have borrowed a horse from Luke or asked him to hitch up the buggy for her, but she was a little afraid of horses and much preferred to walk.

  Breathing deeply, the last lingering scents of fall floated on the afternoon breeze. Soon it would snow and jaunts on foot out of town would become impossible.

  Approaching the Stratton place, Ginny watched smoke puff from the chimney in the house as well as what had to be Blake’s workshop. Veering away from the house, she rapped on the door of the workshop and heard Blake’s voice rumble for her to enter.

  Gently pushing the door open, she gasped to see all the tools and furniture filling the large space.

  Ornately carved chairs, unique side tables, a beautiful bedroom set and seven church pews sat finished on one side of the building. A large workbench ran along one wall and another pew sat in an open area where Blake was sanding down a corner to make it smooth for the many hands that would run over it in the coming years. Although simple, the benches were sturdy and solid, made of beautiful oak wood.

  “Blake, how wonderful!” Ginny exclaimed, stepping over to examine some of the chairs and tables. A rocking chair, quite similar in coloring to Filly’s head of lovely curls, captured her attention and she couldn’t keep from reaching out and running her fingers over the carved wood.

  Delicately carved roses and vines highlighted the wood along the back and decorative rings ornamented the spindles along the sides.

  “May I?” Ginny asked, looking at Blake for permission to sit in the chair. At his nod, she carefully sat on the seat, scooting back and relaxing with the smooth rocking motion.

  Several moments of quiet lingered while she rocked and Blake continued to sand the corner of the pew.

  When he finally looked her direction, she’d removed her coat and hat, looking so beautiful and excessively comfortable in his workshop. He’d missed being near her, even if she did infuriate and invigorate him beyond reason.

  Glancing at her, he noticed her rosy cheeks, flushed from the cold air, while her pink lips practically begged for a kiss. He wondered if they’d taste as sweet as they looked.

  As teens, he’d brushed her lips a time or two, but nothing he’d consider a real kiss. Even the goodbye kiss they shared a decade ago had been an innocent kiss from a boy experiencing his first love for a naive young girl.

  Suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to sample her lips, he set down his sandpaper, brushed off his hands, and walked over to where she sat looking around at his many projects.

  A shipment was ready to send to his parents, and he was more than halfway finished with
the church pews. Most of the orders he had from locals wanting to surprise loved ones with Christmas gifts sat finished, ready to deliver.

  Although she didn’t know it, the chair she was sitting in would be delivered to Granger House as a gift to Filly from Luke. Ginny hadn’t noticed it yet, but the back of the chair had one heart in the center with Luke and Filly’s initials intertwined through it.

  Because they were such good friends, he’d labored excessively over getting every detail perfect.

  “Like that chair?” Blake asked, hunkering down near Ginny, rubbing his hand over the cool wood of the arm. His fingers stopped mere inches away from where Ginny’s fingers rested.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she said, smiling at him with an odd light in her eyes. “I knew you had talent, Blake, but this is amazing. You are indeed a uniquely talented craftsman. If you moved to a large city, you could become famous.”

  “I’ve no desire to move to a large city or become famous,” Blake said, shaking his head. If Ginny knew who he really was, she’d also know his furniture was somewhat famous and coveted, at least in London and the surrounding areas. He stamped his pieces with the head of a fox and lettering that read “Roxbury House,” as a tribute to his father’s family. Many people were acquainted with the name and style of his work, even if the creator behind the pieces remained anonymous. That’s how Blake intended to keep it.

  Between the warmth of the room and Ginny’s soft floral fragrance floating around him, Blake began to forget all the reasons he needed to stay away from her.

  Moving to push himself upright, the chair rocked forward placing Ginny’s lips just a breath from his own for the longest second of Blake’s life.

  Unable to stand the wanting, the longing, to taste her lips, Blake leaned down and gripped her arms in his hands, pulling her out of the chair and against him.

  A little gasp escaped her lips as she stared at him with wide blue eyes. Gazing into the beautiful pools, he saw something flicker there, something that looked unmistakably like desire.