The Christmas Token

by Shanna Hatfield

  “Yes, you did,” she ground out, glaring at Luke.

  “Looked like you both were having a fine time,” Luke said, going to the sink and washing his hands. He cringed when he heard Ginny’s hands slap the table and heard her scream, “Men!” Her footsteps thudded against the floor as she stomped down the hall. The slamming of her bedroom door echoed into the kitchen.

  “What did I say?” Luke asked innocently as he dried his hands.

  Shaking her head at him, Filly hid her grin by tipping down her chin as she put hot rolls in a basket and set it on the table. Taking a pot roast from the oven, she set it on a platter and started to carve it when Luke removed the knife and fork from her hand, pulling her into his arms.

  Looking into his face, she felt a grin working up the corners of her lips and traveling to her bright green eyes. “You know any mention of Blake gets her all worked up,” Filly whispered, leaning against Luke’s solid chest.

  “I know. Why do you think I hurried home so quick and brought it up?” Luke asked, giving his wife a wicked smile before nuzzling her neck. “You should have seen them. Blake was riding that big ol’ stallion of his and Ginny sat across his lap with a look of terror on her face, as if he was racing headlong into the end of the world. It does her good to have her bloomers ruffled once in a while and Blake seems to be the man for the job.”

  “You’re ornery, Luke Granger,” Filly said, starting to push away from him. “Ornery and a big tease.”

  “Yep, and don’t forget it,” Luke said, playfully swatting Filly on her backside as he went down the hall to coax Ginny out of her room for dinner.

  “We need one more place setting, Ginny. Would you mind adding it, please?” Filly asked as she looked over the big dining room table set for the Thanksgiving meal they would soon be serving their friends. Using the best china and crystal, the table sparkled in the glow of the many candles nestled down the center of the table. Bowls of nuts, apples, and pinecones were interspersed among the candles, making a festive table adornment for the holiday.

  “Please tell me that awful man is not joining us for dinner,” Ginny said, shooting a pleading gaze Filly’s direction. It was bad enough she somehow found herself stuck sitting next to Blake at the church service, but to have to endure his company further was more than she wanted to contemplate.

  Between his masculine scent and the warmth of his presence penetrating her defenses at Chauncy’s Thanksgiving service, Ginny could barely think straight. The thought of spending the day with him at Granger House as a guest was too much for her to bear.

  “If you’re referring to Blake, then, yes, he’ll be joining us. You know he is anything but awful. He’s a very nice hard-working man with a good and giving heart.” Filly grew weary of Ginny’s unflattering descriptions of their friend. Blake was kindness itself, often doing things to help others. Humble, generous, caring, and trustworthy were just some of the words Filly could think of to describe the man. He was one of the few people in Hardman Luke trusted to know about her identity.

  Although Blake was out of the country visiting his parents when she and Luke wed, upon his return to Hardman a few months later, Filly discovered a good friend in the gentle man. It was obvious he, Luke, and Chauncy had been friends for years and enjoyed teasing each other mercilessly.

  With the three of them gathered around her Thanksgiving table, it should prove to be an interesting day, especially if Ginny continued to call him names and scowl at him.

  “Do you think, just for today, you might put aside your unflattering descriptions of Blake and try to suffer his presence here as our guest?” Filly asked, giving Ginny a pointed look.

  Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Ginny added one more place setting and nodded her head. Although she wouldn’t admit it, some little part of her hoped she’d find herself seated next to Blake.

  Luke invited the Bruner family to join them, along with the Dodds, his assistant Arlan, and Blake.

  “I’ll do my best,” Ginny said, walking back into the kitchen where they caught Luke trying to snatch a piece of pumpkin pie.

  “Drop that fork and step away from the pie,” Filly said, looking at Luke in exasperation. “You are far worse than an undisciplined child. Can’t we leave the kitchen unattended for five minutes without you sneaking in here?”

  “Nope,” Luke said, grabbing Filly by her apron strings as she tried to breeze past him and pulling her into his arms. When she started to push against him, he launched into a lively dance across the kitchen floor, making Filly laugh and Ginny smile.

  “What are we going to do with you, crazy man?” Filly asked, slightly breathless from Luke’s antics when he finally stopped the dance.

  “Give me a piece of pie to stay out of the way?” Luke suggested, waggling his eyebrows while tipping his head in the direction of the pie on the counter.

  “Was he always this insufferable, Ginny?” Filly asked, cutting Luke a large wedge of pie and pouring him a glass of milk.

  “I’m sure he never behaved this way at home, but only because Mother wouldn’t allow it,” Ginny said, grinning at her brother as he kissed Filly’s cheek and wandered off in the direction of the library.

  “Do you have fun memories from Thanksgiving holidays when you were a child?” Filly asked Ginny as the girl attempted to help her with meal preparations. Ginny had learned quite a bit about cooking since she’d come to stay with them even if she still had no desire to attempt to cook anything on her own.

  “We always had a cook, you know, so I remember sneaking into the kitchen and the cook would give Luke and I samples of what she was making. Then Mother would catch us and we’d be forced to sit in the parlor reading or playing the piano. Luke often escaped outside. One Thanksgiving he was gone for what seemed like hours. Father finally went searching for him and found him sitting next to Chauncy at the Dodd family’s table, enjoying a meal there. Father dragged him home and Luke slid right up to the table and ate another meal,” Ginny said, smiling at the memory. Luke was always so full of fun and charm, Ginny thought he got away with a lot more tomfoolery than she’d ever thought about pursuing. “He and Chauncy were as thick as thieves. Blake joined in sometimes, when he wasn’t busy out on the farm with his parents. He always seemed to be quiet and subdued compared to the other two.”

  “That’s because Luke and Chauncy are so boisterous,” Filly said, thinking the two men often acted more like mischievous little boys rather than the town banker and minister of the Christian Church.

  “That they are,” Ginny agreed, glancing out the kitchen window to see the Dodd family walking up the back steps. Erin squealed and hugged Bart around his scruffy neck. When the dog licked her face, Abby glared at Chauncy and he picked up his daughter before knocking on the door. “Speak of the devil…”

  Filly turned and wiped her hands on a towel as Abby, Chauncy, and Erin trooped inside. Removing their outerwear, they exchanged hugs then Chauncy snatched a piece of fudge from a plate on the counter before going in search of Luke.

  Abby insisted on washing Erin’s face to remove the dog slobbers. Setting her back on her feet, Erin wrapped a little arm around Filly’s leg and refused to let go

  “You know, Erin, I bet you could sit at the table and help me with a project,” Ginny said, trying to find something that would entertain the little girl so Filly could work unhampered by the child’s clinging. “You climb up on a chair and I’ll be right back.”

  Abby seated Erin at the table, boosting her up by placing a few books in the chair for her to sit on.

  Ginny hurried back and sat next to the little girl, placing several sheets of paper and a box of Franklin Crayons on the table. Erin studied the colorful sticks with interest and watched as Ginny picked up one and traced her hand on a sheet of paper.

  “Let’s make turkeys for everyone, Erin,” Ginny said, adding feathers, an eye, and wattle to the bird she created.

  The little girl clapped her hands with delight and grabbed a crayon in each
chubby fist.

  “Here, like this,” Ginny said, taking Erin’s hand in hers and helping the child trace her hand.

  “Do more! Do more!” Erin begged when they finished the first one.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ginny said, looking up at Abby and Filly with a grin. Although she’d always thought children a nuisance, it was easy to love Erin. The child was bright, engaging, and refused to be ignored.

  Concentrating on helping Erin, Ginny didn’t even look up when a knock sounded at the back door. She felt the breeze of cold air when the door opened and closed then Blake’s manly scent drifted around her and she snapped her head up to find his gaze resting intently on her.

  Unsettled by his presence, she pretended to be busy, giving him a brief nod of her head in acknowledgement and continued in her efforts to help Erin.

  The child, however, was happy to see one of her favorite people and jumped off the chair, running over to Blake with outstretched arms.

  “Unca Bake! Ride horsey wif you?” Erin asked as he picked her up and kissed her cheek. She wrapped her little arms around his neck in a tight hug and Ginny felt a sudden jealousy that she couldn’t do the same, especially when Blake tenderly patted the little girl on the back, then ran a gentle hand over her dark curls.

  “Not today, sweetheart. It’s way too cold outside for a little miss like you to go for a ride,” Blake said, setting Erin on her chair and studying the turkeys she and Ginny crafted. “Are you and Miss Ginny making turkeys?”

  “Yep. Wanna hep?”

  “No thank you, Erin. I don’t know how to draw a turkey. I’m sorry.” Blake wanted to escape somewhere far away from the petite woman seated at the table who tormented him with her very presence.

  Opening the door and seeing Ginny’s golden head bent over Erin’s dark one, both covered with wild curls, did something strange and foreign to his heart. It was like a vision from the future, picturing Ginny with a fair-haired daughter.

  Their daughter.

  That thought caught him off guard and made his head swim while his heart began galloping madly.

  The woman hadn’t spoken to him since the day he raced her through town across his lap on Romeo. She’d glared at him at every opportunity and yesterday at the church service she held her skirt away from him as if he’d soil it by association when his leg brushed against hers in the crowded pew.

  “Pease, Unca Bake? Make turkey wif me?” Erin asked, looking up at him with those big blue eyes that got him every time.

  “Just a minute, sweetheart,” Blake said, handing Filly his contribution to the meal and removing his coat and hat.

  Filly looked at him with an excited smile.

  “Are these the chocolates you shared last spring?” she asked, opening the lid and peeking inside the box. His parents sent the delicious candy for Easter and he’d just received another box a few days ago.

  Not wanting to attend the Thanksgiving meal empty-handed, he’d forced himself to leave the box unopened so he could share the treat with his friends at Granger House.

  “They are, indeed,” Blake said, glad he’d been able to bring something Filly appreciated. “I think you should sample one, just to make sure they traveled well through the mail.

  “Only if the rest of you join in,” Filly said, eyeing the candy in her hand.

  “No, go ahead, Filly. I don’t want to spoil my dinner,” Abby said, nudging her friend with her elbow.

  “Well, if I must be the one to sacrifice a little room for dinner, so be it,” Filly said with a laugh before choosing a candy and popping it in her mouth. Her eyes glowed with a bright satisfaction as she set the candy near the pies and went back to her meal preparations.

  Blake took a seat across from Ginny at the table.

  “How should I proceed?” Blake asked, watching as Ginny helped Erin draw another turkey by tracing her hand.

  “Just pick up a crayon and trace your hand,” Ginny said, handing him one from those scattered on the table.

  Blake picked it up and purposely pretended he couldn’t make the simple motions of tracing his hand.

  “I don’t think my fingers are made for this type of work,” he said, looking at Erin then Ginny, holding up a horribly lopsided turkey.

  Erin giggled and pointed at his turkey while Ginny shook her head.

  “You can’t possibly be that doomed to failure, Mr. Stratton,” Ginny said, handing Erin a green crayon to scribble in feathers.

  Walking around the table, Ginny leaned around Blake and took a clean sheet of paper from the stack she’d brought from her room. Setting it in front of him, she picked up the brown crayon and looked at him like a teacher tasked with handling a hopelessly incompetent student. “Give me your hand.”

  Obeying, Blake lifted his hand to the table, placing it on the sheet of paper.

  Ginny leaned over his shoulder, bracing herself with her left hand against his back. Heat and some odd tingling sensation sizzled from her palm up her arm, making her fight back a shudder.

  Brushing against him, she placed her right hand over his and traced his left hand on the paper. Blake looked into her face and for a moment, she found herself entranced, at a loss to take even a shallow breath. The look in his eyes let her know he was fighting a battle as well.

  Every place their skin connected, even through the layers of their clothing, made Blake feel like he was on fire. Ginny’s delicate fragrance flooded his nose, making his thoughts muddle. Turning his head and looking up, his lips came dangerously close to hers.

  His mouth began watering at the thought of kissing her incredible pink lips. Although she acted indifferent, he sensed a shift in her stance, especially when her gaze collided with his.

  “See, it’s not so difficult,” she said, her eyes locked on his mouth as she stood, unable to move.

  Neither of them noticed Abby and Filly casting each other knowing glances as they hustled from the room with food to place on the table. Erin babbled to herself as she colored another turkey.

  Caught up in some sort of spell, Blake didn’t know when his hands reached up and encircled Ginny’s waist and pulled her onto his lap or how his fingers twined into her hair.

  He was fully aware, however, when their lips connected in a fiery clash, making heat burn throughout his body with a smoldering force.

  “Unca Bake kissin’ Ginny,” Erin giggled, pointing her crayon at them from across the table. “Kissy, kissy.”

  “My stars!” Ginny said, jumping to her feet and hurrying back around the table to sit next to Erin. Befuddled, she patted her hair, pushing in loosened hairpins, and tried to calm her erratic breathing.

  “Unca Bake kiss me!” Erin demanded, holding her arms up to him as he stood from the table, needing to put distance between him and Ginny before he did something unthinkable like ravage her right there in the kitchen.

  Blake picked up the child and noisily kissed her cheek before poking her tummy playfully, making her giggle again. “You finish helping Miss Ginny make turkeys, Erin. I’m going to go visit with your daddy.”

  “I come wif you,” Erin said, wiggling to be put down. Blake set her on her feet, but she reached up and took his hand. “Go see Daddy and Unca Wuke.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Blake said, smiling at Abby and Filly as they returned to the kitchen, both grinning at him like he’d done something humorous. He didn’t see anything amusing in his inability to retain his good sense or composure around Ginny. Nothing at all.

  Following Erin as she ran toward the parlor, he hoped the girls refrained from saying anything to Luke and Chauncy about his encounter with Ginny in the kitchen. Otherwise, he was in for an earful of their ribbing.

  Chapter Eight

  “That was very nice of you to keep Erin occupied, Ginny,” Abby said as Ginny put away the crayons and paper while Filly and Abby finished dinner preparations.

  “It was nice of you to occupy Blake, too,” Filly said, her eyes glowing with humor. “I think you thoroughly distracted him with tha
t kiss.”

  Blushing, Ginny glared at her sister-in-law and shook her head. “It was… it didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

  “I understand,” Filly said, giving Ginny’s shoulders a squeeze. “Although next time, you might want to wait until Erin isn’t watching. She’s already tattling to Luke and Chauncy about you kissing Blake.”

  Ginny groaned, knowing her brother would make at least one embarrassing comment at some point, most likely when all the guests joined them for dinner. He possessed a rare talent for finding the most inopportune time to humiliate her.

  “Why don’t you help us and it will take your mind off a good-looking carpenter with tempting lips,” Abby said, motioning for Ginny to join her and Filly in putting the final touches on the meal.

  The three of them hustled to dish up the food while Luke greeted the rest of their guests at the front door.

  Once guests removed their outerwear and exchanged friendly greetings, everyone converged in the dining room where Ginny thought the table might buckle beneath all the delicious-looking food.

  Lively conversation prevailed throughout the meal. Although Luke insisted Ginny sit next to Blake, the two of them somehow managed to keep from even brushing so much as their sleeves together as they sat side by side.

  Waiting for their meal to settle so they’d have room for dessert, Luke suggested everyone share something for which they were thankful.

  When it was Ginny’s turn, she realized there were many things that filled her with gratitude. Tears loomed in her big blue eyes as she looked first at Luke, then Filly. “I’m thankful to be here in Hardman. It was my home for many years and I didn’t realize until I came back how much I missed it here. I’m thankful to Luke and Filly for opening their home to me and to Luke for giving me the sister I always wanted. I’m also thankful to be surrounded by good friends and all this good food.”