A Convenient Christmas Wedding

by Regina Scott

  Guilt slithered across the stiff brown grass, drawing closer. She refused to look at it. “I haven’t forgotten you or what you did for me, Charles. I simply have my own life now. Won’t you come in and get warm?”

  Charles glanced longingly at the main house. “Where is your husband?”

  Nora bit back a smile. “Simon is out at the moment. His mother has tea ready.”

  That moved him to descend. One of the men in the play, a Mr. Borden, came out of the barn just then. Seeing Nora, he hurried to help with the horse. He wore the gold paper crown Beth had made for him, and Charles frowned at him before Nora led her brother into the cabin, her present in her arms.

  Mrs. Wallin welcomed him, took his coat, wrapped him in a quilt by the fire and brought him a cup of tea.

  “Thank you,” he said before blowing steam off the brew. “I grew up where it snowed a great deal, but this cold cuts to the bone.” He took a sip and seemed to melt a little in the chair.

  “It doesn’t snow every year here,” Mrs. Wallin acknowledged. “But I remember the winter of 1860. Drifts as high as the eaves and Seattle down to its last barrel of flour.”

  Charles stared at her. “My word. Do you think it will get that bad this year?”

  “Not if the good Lord wills,” Mrs. Wallin said. She turned to Nora. “Do you want to open your brother’s present before he leaves, dear?”

  She had to admit to some curiosity. The most she’d ever received from Charles had been a packet of needles, and those were only so she could finish sewing up a shirt he’d needed. Going to the box, she removed the string that held it shut and pulled off the lid.

  What she saw inside momentarily stilled her hands. Then she reached in and drew out a hat. It was tall, black brushed velvet, with a black satin band and a black net veil, and two ravens clung to the crown. Their glittering black eyes seemed to gaze back at her, surrounded by shiny black feathers.

  “Did someone die?” Mrs. Wallin asked, her hand flying to the bodice of her green wool gown.

  Charles drew himself up. “Meredith says black is considered quite sophisticated.”

  Nora slipped the hideous hat back in the box. “Very kind of you both, Charles. I’m sure I’ll find an occasion to wear it.”

  Mrs. Wallin did not look nearly so certain.

  Charles was watching Nora. “You are determined to stay out here in the wilderness, then?”

  Simon’s mother bristled, but Nora nodded. “Yes, Charles. I like it here.”

  As Mrs. Wallin’s smile reappeared, Charles slumped. “A shame. Meredith was hoping I could persuade you to come for Christmas dinner at least. You could bring your husband if you feel you must.”

  “I hoped to spend Christmas here,” Nora said. “I’m sure you and Meredith will get on fine without me.”

  Charles sighed. “She cries every day you are gone. It is most discouraging.”

  Meredith cried? Nora couldn’t believe that. “Perhaps you should hire her a maid.”

  “We have brought on a housekeeper and a maid,” Charles told her. “But no one can replace your company, Nora.” He glanced up, his face as tight as the day he’d come to tell her she must move in with him and Meredith. “Please, won’t you come home?”

  She felt his pain, his bewilderment. It seemed he did long for her company. How extraordinary! If she went with him, and he truly was determined to treat her like a sister and not a servant, she might sleep as late as she wanted, have as many pretty gowns as she pleased, give Meredith’s ugly hat to the poor, if she could find one desperate enough to wear it.

  Yet she had a chance for something more here, and she could not convince herself to give it up. She had Britta and Fleet, Beth and Mrs. Wallin, John and Levi, Simon’s other brothers and their wives. And maybe, just maybe, she might have Simon as a true husband.

  “Why don’t you stay tonight, Charles?” she suggested. “The school is hosting a theatrical. You could go back to Seattle on Christmas Eve.”

  He shook his head. “No, no, I must return, or Meredith will worry. Are you certain you can’t join me?”

  The guilt was rearing up again, reaching for her. She dodged it. “After Christmas, Charles,” she promised. “I’ll come to visit the day after Christmas. You will have to be contented with that.”

  Charles smiled, as if she had given him a pardon from prison. “Wonderful. I know Meredith will be delighted to have you with us again. You must promise to stay for dinner. We’ll have a friend over. Nothing fancy, just something to let you know you are always welcome.”

  A dinner party seemed a bit excessive, but she agreed, and he left shortly thereafter.

  “What will you do with that?” Mrs. Wallin asked, eyeing the hatbox.

  Nora scooped it up. “I’ll take it to the cabin so it doesn’t sour anyone’s appetite. I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day sped by, and before Nora knew it, others began arriving at Wallin Landing. Mr. and Mrs. Paul came first, their heads down and glances darting as if they somehow expected to be evicted. They relaxed when they saw Nora and asked after Britta. Knowing the role the cow must play in the theatrical, Nora promised to reintroduce them later.

  Thomas came next. He’d managed to find shoes for his long feet, but the way he kept grimacing as he walked told Nora they didn’t fit him well. Mrs. Wallin fed him stew and biscuits and set him and Mr. Paul to work with John ferrying the chairs and benches from the house to the barn as Nora slipped away to her cabin to change.

  As costume designer, she’d been privy to more scenes than the other members of the family who were not involved, but she had to own she was excited to see the entire production. “But you cannot come,” she told Fleet. “I never had a chance to see how you’d fit in the script.”

  Fleet turned and gave her his back as if thoroughly put out with her.

  Simon came in just as she was fastening her mother’s pearls about her neck in front of the mirror. She could see the frown on his handsome face as he looked her way.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked.

  Nora spread her satin skirts. It was her favorite dress, for all someone else had sewn it for her. The scoop neck and puffed sleeves graced the fitted bodice, and the full skirts swung as she walked. What made the simple style elegant was the material—matte silver satin printed with pink, rose and purple butterflies.

  “It’s a dinner dress,” she told Simon. “My parents always dressed before going to the theatre.”

  He shook his head with a smile. “It’s a school play in a barn, Nora.”

  “And no acting troupe ever worked harder,” she insisted. “I think we should honor them with our best too.”

  He nodded. “Very well. I’ll meet you at the main house shortly.”

  Disappointment bit at her. How fine it would have been to stroll through the moonlight on Simon’s arm. Warmer too. As Christmas approached, the nights had dipped below freezing. But she offered him a smile before throwing her cloak about her shoulders and leaving.

  A portly man, a sheen of perspiration on his balding head, was waiting with Mrs. Wallin on the boardwalk in front of the main cabin. His red flannel shirt and tweed trousers were of good material, but stains marred them. He looked Nora up and down and tipped his double chins in her direction.

  “We getting a new schoolmarm now that Miss Fosgrave went and married one of your brood?” he asked Mrs. Wallin.

  Simon’s mother took a step away from him. “Rina is perfectly capable of being a teacher and a wife too. Nora, dear, this is Mr. Rankin, Scout’s father. Nora is Simon’s wife.”

  He raised bushy brows. “Simon got married? You either have more patience than anyone I know, little lady, or a whale of a dowry.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “He’s Thomas’s father?” Nor
a murmured to Mrs. Wallin.

  “Yes,” she said, “as improbable as that might sound. Pay him no mind, dear. He’s more bluster than bite.”

  John came out of the house then, dressed in his brown suit, and offered his mother his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting the loveliest lady in our family to the theatre?”

  His mother laughed as she took his arm. “You scamp.”

  Mr. Rankin advanced on Nora. “I’ll walk you over, new Mrs. Wallin.”

  Everything in her recoiled. “I’ll wait for Simon.”

  “As you should.” Mrs. Wallin affixed Mr. Rankin with such a stern look he shifted on his feet a moment before following her and John away from the house.

  Nora stood on the boardwalk, alone.

  The night felt colder, darker. Why? She’d been alone since she’d left Lowell nearly a year ago. In truth, she’d been alone even with her parents and Charles and Meredith. She should be used to it by now.

  A movement on the edge of the woods caught her eye. Simon strode toward her. He’d put on his wedding suit, the white shirt gleaming in the lights from the house. His only concession to the weather was a pair of heavy-soled boots that clumped on the planks as he came to her side.

  He bowed. “Worthy of escorting you, Mrs. Wallin?”

  “Yes, of course, Simon,” Nora said, clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling. “I am the one honored.”

  He drew her away from the house, walking with her to the barn.

  “Your dog wanted out,” Simon said.

  Nora nodded. “He’ll stay close to the clearing. He always does.”

  Simon chuckled. “I’d say he was well trained, but I doubt that’s the case.”

  She didn’t think it was so much training as feeling. The way Fleet behaved around Simon, the dog had evidently decided her husband was the leader of the pack and therefore must be followed.

  Still, she caught no sign of Fleet as they crossed the clearing. The clouds scudded out of the way to reveal stars across the deep expanse of sky. Nora sighed, feeling as if she floated among them.

  “Remember,” Simon said, opening the door for her, “it’s just a school play in a barn.”

  But Nora knew he was wrong.

  Her hand in his, she went to sit behind Mrs. Wallin and John. The chairs and the benches from the house crowded so close on the threshing floor that her shoulder brushed Simon’s chest. Mr. Paul and his wife were in the front row, and Mr. Rankin had seated himself next to Rina, who was none too pleased with his presence if the tap of her slipper under her lavender skirts was any indication.

  “Should there be more lights?” Simon murmured to Nora, glancing up at the lantern hanging near the door. Positioned as it was, it left most of the barn in shadow. The presence of so many people made the space toasty, encouraging Nora to slip the cloak off her shoulders.

  “Shh,” she cautioned Simon as a glow sprang to life from the haymow. The lantern brightened to reveal Beth standing on the top rung of the ladder, her golden hair cascading over her white linen gown. The blue braid around the neck made her eyes shine.

  “I am Gabriel, Angel to the Lord Most High,” she announced, her clear voice ringing to the rafters. “I have come to tell you of things revealed long ago. Listen to me, and marvel.”

  * * *

  Marvel, his sister said. Beside him, Nora seemed ready to do just that. Though the audience was largely in darkness, Simon could see her craning her neck to watch Beth up on the ladder. It was a nice perch for an angel, he had to admit, but had no one considered what would happen if a spark from that lamp fell on the hay? They could lose the bulk of their animals’ food for winter.

  “There was a man named Joseph, pledged to be married to a virgin named Mary,” Beth recited, oblivious to the danger. Another light appeared, this one at the back of the barn, where the rear door gave out into the forest. Drew and Catherine came forward, dressed in long robes with scarves on their heads. Drew had a staff in one hand, his other arm about Catherine’s shoulders, each step careful and kind as they walked farther into the barn.

  “She was with child through the Holy Spirit,” Beth continued. “When the time came for her to give birth, she wrapped her son in swaddling clothes and laid him in the manger, for there was no room for them at the inn.”

  Catherine and Drew stopped below Beth and settled onto the straw of one of the stalls, where Beth’s old doll lay in the manger, glass eyes gleaming in the light. Britta put her head over the stall and let out a soft “Moo.” From beyond her, the oxen lowed in response.

  “They’re singing to the baby,” Nora murmured, her own eyes shining.

  It did indeed seem that way. Then the cow pulled back to go down on her only knee as if genuflecting to the babe in the manger. How had they managed to train her to do that? Or could it be she too felt the weight of the moment?

  Simon shook his head. It was just a play and a makeshift one at that. Despite Nora’s clever work with a needle, he recognized Drew’s robe as his mother’s favorite tablecloth, Catherine’s headdress as the doily Beth had sewn for her dressing table. There was nothing amazing about any of it.

  So why did he feel awed?

  Drew dimmed his light, putting the focus back on Beth.

  “But there were others who needed to hear the news of the baby’s birth,” she said.

  In the center of the barn, a light blossomed, low and dancing, as if coming from a campfire. Levi and James stood looking at each other. They too wore long robes, simple, well-used. Lancelot and Percival watched from their stalls as if fascinated.

  “We are but poor shepherds,” Levi said, a little woodenly, his gaze darting about as if he tried to see the audience beyond the light. “Watching our flocks by night. We are the lowest of the low, the ones forgotten, left behind. There is no call to include such as we in the blessing of Israel.”

  At the words, Simon heard Nora suck in a breath. Sometimes she sounded as if she had been made to feel the lowest of the low. Was she thinking of her brother and sister-in-law? Her parents?

  Suddenly, James clutched his chest with one hand and pointed a trembling finger to Beth with the other.

  Levi looked up, arrested. “What’s that?” His voice trembled.

  “Fear not,” Beth told them, “for I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people, great and small. Today in the City of David your Savior has been born. You will find him lying in a manger.”

  Levi looked at James. “We must go and see what has been told to us.”

  Above them, Beth raised her hands until the light brightened the whole barn. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.”

  Levi and James crossed to Drew and Catherine’s sides and knelt with their heads bowed in honor of the babe.

  “Led by the Light that had come into the world,” Beth continued, “wise men traveled far to see the Holy child.”

  The door behind them opened, sending an icy blast whipping through the barn. Straw whirled like spun gold as three kings moved past with stately tread.

  “From my great wealth I bring gold for His crown,” said the first, and Simon recognized the towering figure as Mr. Hennessy, the oldest, largest and most determined student at the Lake Union School.

  “From my deep wisdom, I bring frankincense to perfume His path,” said the second with a decidedly Irish accent, and Simon knew it must be Mr. Borden, who had recently joined the school.

  The last king came forward and knelt humbly beside the shepherds. “From my heart,” Scout said, his voice heavy with emotion, “I bring myrrh for the wounds we will inflict upon Him. And I ask His mercy on all who call upon His name.”

  His words hung in the air a moment, and Simon heard the animals shifting in their stalls, as if even they were l
istening. I ask mercy... Mercy for mistakes, flaws, problems. Mercy for things undone, words unsaid. Was such mercy available to him?

  Another movement caught his eye. The three kings must have left the door open just enough, for Fleet entered the barn. Undeterred by the audience, he moved with steps as firm as any great actor, approaching the manger. Seeing the baby there, he lowered himself to the straw, the king of dogs acknowledging One greater than he.

  Nora caught her breath again.

  Then Beth’s voice rang out. “And He shall be called King of Kings and Prince of Peace, and of His kingdom there will be no end.”

  “Amen and amen,” chorused the kings and the shepherds.

  Fleet raised his head to howl, the sound echoing through the barn. Gooseflesh rose on Simon’s arms.

  Above him, Beth smiled. “Everyone join me in praise.” She lifted her head as if gazing up into the sky.

  “Silent night, holy night...”

  Beside him, Nora lifted her voice, soft and sweet.

  “All is calm, all is bright.”

  Now the others joined in as well, voices blending.

  “Round yon virgin mother and child

  “Holy infant so tender and mild

  “Sleep in heavenly peace

  “Sleep in heavenly peace.”

  Something inside him swelled with the sound. Was peace possible for someone like him?

  Was love?

  He glanced at Nora, whose face, turned up toward the angel, was rapturous in the light. She saw a vision from the past, a Savior come as a child. With her beside him, he saw it too, felt it deep down.

  How could he not love her? She was gentle, kind, endlessly cheerful. She was all he’d need.

  And he knew he had to find a way to prove it to her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mind and heart full, Simon followed his family back to the main house after the play. Sleet was pelting the clearing, and most of the cast members lifted their finery out of the icy puddles as they scampered across the ground. Mr. Paul, Drew, James and John were busy carrying the chairs and benches back to the house. Beside Simon, Nora hummed the last few bars of “Silent Night,” her silvery skirts swaying below her cloak.