Gettin’ Merry

by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME

  In reality, his so-called justification didn’t hold water then and held even less now that he had a lifetime’s worth of experiences to call upon; he’d wanted to lie with Anna Mae because she’d been willing and able. Nothing more. He’d loved Lydia, heart and soul, but his young male body had had no such allegiance. When Anna Mae singled him out as the father of her unborn child, he’d expected some of the other men who’d slid between her thighs in the barn behind her father’s house to confess that that they’d been with her, too, but of course they hadn’t. Over the weeks that followed, his life descended into hell, and he’d been there ever since.

  But now, after years of trying to live with the life he’d made for himself, Lydia was back, not knowing how he’d wished for her or that memories of her were what he’d turned to on those long lonely treks that were so much of a pony soldier’s life. He’d never imagined he’d see her again or that in spite of all that stood between them, his touch would make her eyes slide shut. That tiny response gave him hope, because hope was all he had.

  When Lydia was a youngster, it was common practice to poach on old man Dane’s lumber and steal fruit from his vast orchards of apples, cherries, and peaches. Titus Dane always had more lumber than he’d ever sell and far more fruit than he’d ever harvest, so he didn’t mind his neighbors’ thievery as long as they didn’t carry off a whole stand of trees or wagonloads of fruit. He also tended to look the other way if the poachers had children to feed. Lydia had liked Mr. Dane, and when Miriam wrote to her of his passing Lydia had offered up a prayer for his soul.

  She thought of him now as she trudged through the snow in search of a Christmas tree. She wondered if he was churning in his grave knowing she’d returned home and was on the hunt for one of his trees or if he didn’t mind at all. Not that it mattered. The bundled-up Lydia was out on this cold, sunny Saturday morning because she needed a tree, and she wanted to have it home by the time her mother returned from volunteering at the church later today.

  It was nearly nine in the morning, and Lydia hadn’t seen another soul since entering Dane property over an hour ago. Most of the trees in the acres-wide stand of evergreens she was now tramping through were sky-towering giants, too big to fell even if they would fit into her mother’s tiny abode, so she trudged on.

  A short while later, she spotted the perfect tree. It was standing alone in a clearing filled with freshly fallen snow. The sight of it filled her with delight. The field surrounding the short pine was as pristine as if the Good Lord had laid down a blanket, and there were no footprints left by man or beast to mar its quiet beauty. Lydia felt as if the clearing and its tree had been put there just for her.

  She removed the small ax from the red flannel bag tied to her back, then went to investigate the size of the trunk. While she walked, the cold air and the crunch of the snow beneath her feet were so exhilarating, she felt like a child again. The feeling bubbled up and she found herself laughing and hooting like a snowy owl, her head thrown back as she turned round and round in the snow. Then she spread her arms wide and dropped backward onto the cushion of snow. The landing hurt a bit more than she remembered it doing as a child, but the shock of it passed as she lost herself in the making of snow angels. She reveled in the cold snowy spray sent up by the wild movements of her arms and legs.

  “Having fun?”

  Lydia’s eyes popped open. A smiling Gray was looking down at her from atop a big chestnut stallion. Her eyes widened.

  He added, “Could hear you hooting a mile away.”

  As Lydia rolled out of the angel and got to her feet, she was more than a bit embarrassed. She took a moment to brush away the snow caking her heavy coat and the wool men’s trousers she was wearing to keep her legs warm beneath her wool skirt before looking up into his amused eyes.

  He asked then, “Do your students know you like to make snow angels?”

  She brushed at the snow on the scarf covering her hair. “No.”

  He looked her over. Was she thirty-one or thirteen? She appeared to be both. “What are you doing out here?”

  Lydia saw no sense in lying. “I came to cut a Christmas tree for me and Mother.”

  “Ah, you’re poaching.”

  The amused glint in his eyes was so reminiscent of the Gray of old, she prayed for a blindfold so he wouldn’t affect her. “I suppose, but I will pay for the tree. How much?”

  “Dinner.”

  That caught her off guard. She studied him silently. “Why not take coin instead?”

  “Because I’ve plenty of that. I want something dearer.”

  Lydia debated how best to handle this situation. Although she wanted the pine very much, she didn’t want to have to dine with him as payment for it. She sensed the attraction they’d once had for each other rising like a phoenix. In the wagon yesterday, the jolt of his touch let her know just how vulnerable she was to him; sparks had flown. Lydia didn’t think it would take much for those sparks to flare into full-blown flames.

  “Well?” he asked.

  His voice brought her attention back. She said to him, “I don’t wish to dine with you, Gray.”

  “I know, but that’s the only way you’re going to get that tree.”

  The boyish smile he gave her then was so sweetly familiar, she had to force herself not to smile in response. “Why not just be a good neighbor? It is the Christmas season.”

  “Then gift me with your presence at dinner.”

  Temptation licked at Lydia from all sides. A part of her dearly wanted to give in and say yes, but another part, the part that was wary of his intentions, was certain having dinner with him would be a bad idea.

  Gray peered down into her face. “What are you thinking?”

  She told him the truth. “That a part of me wants to say yes, while another part says no.”

  His horse fidgeted from the lack of movement and from the cold. Gray steadied the animal easily. “Then how about we cut down the tree? You can decide which part you want to listen to afterward.”

  Lydia was mildly surprised. “I can have the tree?”

  His voice softened. “Have I ever been able to deny you anything?”

  His voice and presence swirled around her like pungent smoke. She forgot the cold, her mother, the tree. Her entire being seemed focused on Gray.

  He added, “I also won’t deny that the man I’ve become would like to explore the woman you’ve become. . . .”

  The provocative declaration made Lydia look away from the man he’d become, because the woman she’d become had no idea what else to do. “I’m a spinster headmistress now, Gray, and—”

  “And what?” he quizzed softly. “Being a headmistress is supposed to make you less beautiful, less desirable?”

  Lydia’s knees weakened for a moment. Grabbing hold of herself, she told him, “We . . . should get the tree. I’m too old to be a rich man’s holiday bauble.”

  “I’m not looking for a quick roll in the hay. That has proven to be a bad choice.”

  She noted the seriousness now claiming his face. “Then what do you want?”

  “For you to have dinner with me tonight. That’s all.”

  The offer tempted her again, but she didn’t want her feelings for him to emerge any further; they would rise and bloom if she continued to keep company with him. Lydia preferred that her love for him remain sealed up like a bear hibernating in a cave. “I don’t think it’s wise.”

  “Then dine with me as an old friend. We were friends once, too, remember?”

  She did. She studied him. The fine chesterfield he was wearing was a muted charcoal in color and sweeping enough in length to brush the tops of his gleaming black western-made boots. He wore a big Texan-looking brown hat and had a heavy woolen scarf around his throat. Its color matched the coat. Why did he have to be so dazzling? “Gray, I don’t want to spend the evening arguing.”

  “Then we won’t.”

  Caught between her feelings as a woman and what her mind knew to be sound j
udgment, Lydia spent another few moments mulling over his offer, then asked, “What time?” Every part of her being shouted warning, but she set the warnings aside. Maybe this one night would allow them to put the past behind for good.

  Gray wanted to grin with glee when she accepted but kept his face void of emotion. “Seven?”

  She nodded.

  He slid from the horse’s back to the ground. “Let’s chop down your tree before we both freeze to death.”

  Although Lydia had intended to chop the tree down herself, she gladly handed him the ax. Her hands and feet were nearly numb from standing in the cold.

  It took only a few minutes for him to fell the small pine. “How’d you plan to get it home?” he asked, gesturing to the tree.

  Lydia stamped her feet to try to get the circulation going in them again. “Drag it. That’s one of the reasons I chose a small one.”

  “Well, let’s tie it to the saddle and get going.”

  “I can get it home.”

  “I’m sure you can, but this way will be faster, don’t you think?”

  She did, and since it was too cold to argue further, she helped him drag the tree over to the horse. After Gray trailed the tree from a rope tied to the stallion’s saddle, he mounted up, then stuck out his gloved hand for her to grab. She did so and climbed up behind him. Her arms circled his waist so she wouldn’t fall off.

  When her arms went around him, Gray had to close his eyes against the rising heady sensations that came from the feel of her snug against his back. Determined to be a gentleman, he gathered himself, then turned around and looked at her face framed by the snow-crusted scarf. “Ready?”

  Lydia hadn’t ridden with him this way in a long time. Although he was broader now than he’d been back then, the familiarity of their positioning made the memories of those other times rush back with dizzying speed. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  He turned back and set a slow pace for the horse through the snow.

  Once they were under way, she asked, “What did you do in the army?”

  “Cavalry. I was with the Tenth.”

  “You were a Buffalo Soldier?”

  The awe in her voice pleased him. “Yep.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “You know about the Tenth?”

  “I do. The men of the Ninth and Tenth are highly thought of by my students.”

  Gray was pleased by that news as well.

  Lydia said, “Wait until I tell them I’ve an old friend who served with the Tenth.”

  The members of the all-Black Tenth Cavalry were well decorated and well known for their bravery during the settlement of the West.

  She asked him, “Where did you serve? Fort Davis?”

  “I did, but we patrolled from the Canadian border to the Rio Grande. I got the chance to see a lot of the country.”

  “And you returned here with a Texas accent.”

  He chuckled. “My mother gave me a hard time about it when I came back to Michigan, said I spoke like I should be wearing spurs.”

  Lydia smiled. She liked the sound of his voice, but then, she always had.

  They arrived at her mother’s a short time later. Gray untied the tree and, per Lydia’s instructions, left it leaning against the front of the house.

  “I’ll bring it in later. I need to see where Mama wants it set up.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks for your help,” she told him genuinely.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Once again, silence rose, and as it lengthened and her awareness of him met his awareness of her, Lydia’s heart pounded. A yearning had taken root in her that she couldn’t quite control. “I’ll see you later?”

  He nodded and touched his hat. Walking back to his horse, he mounted up and rode away.

  Lydia watched until he was out of sight.

  Chapter 4

  When Miriam returned home from church, she came rushing into the house excitedly. “Where on earth did you get the tree?”

  Lydia enjoyed the happiness brightening her mother’s face. “Dane land.”

  Having a tree during the Christmas season was a tradition made popular by America’s German immigrants. Now every year more and more people were embracing the holiday practice.

  Miriam removed her scarf and coat. “Did you pay Elizabeth for it?”

  “No. Gray.”

  Her mother went still. “Gray? He didn’t make you pay a lot for it, did he?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Studying her daughter’s face, Miriam hung up her coat. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m paying for the tree by having dinner with him.”

  Miriam responded cryptically, “I see. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Lydia shrugged, then added, “It was the only form of payment he was willing to accept.”

  “Is there water for tea? It’s freezing out there.”

  “Yes. Would you like a cup?”

  Miriam nodded, saying, “I would.”

  “Sit. I’ll get it.”

  Once they were both seated with cups of tea, Miriam said, “Dinner with Gray.”

  “Yes,” Lydia replied. “He says he wants to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Settling the past, I assume.”

  “Is that something you wish to talk about?”

  “I tell myself yes, but inside . . . I don’t know.” Lydia’s mind went back to her chance meeting with Gray this morning. When she climbed up behind him on the horse she didn’t want to admit how good it felt to wrap her arms around him once again, but it had. “How am I supposed to act? Do I tell him how much he hurt me? How angry I was? Should I pretend it’s all in the past and that it no longer matters?”

  Miriam told her honestly, “Only you know the answer to that. All I know is I don’t ever want you hurt that way again.”

  “Neither do I,” Lydia replied truthfully. The idea of dining with Gray had her more than a bit concerned. She dearly wanted to maintain the distance the passage of time had set between them, but her feelings for him were reawakening and she didn’t know if she was capable of keeping them at bay.

  Miriam poured herself more tea from the pot and said, “Well, let’s set Gray aside for a moment. Tell me about you and Burton. What happened?”

  Lydia sighed. She hadn’t talked to anyone about it. “He wanted children, and I can’t give him any.”

  Miriam looked stricken. “You never told me you couldn’t have children. How do you know?”

  “The doctors in Chicago told me. Remember when I first went to live with Aunt and I took ill?”

  “Yes, she wrote to me.”

  “Well, I was much sicker than she let on, because she didn’t want to worry you.”

  Her mother paused and stared, then asked, “So, you two thought it would be better for me to worry now that fifteen years have passed?”

  Lydia shook her head with amusement. “Mother—”

  “Don’t ‘Mother’ me, little girl. Wait until I see that sister of mine. I entrust her with my child, and she lets you get so sick she’s afraid to tell me?”

  Lydia said to herself, Here we go. “Mama, it wasn’t like that. I was the one afraid, afraid you would make me come home if you knew.”

  “Well, you were probably right and I’m sorry I’m fussing, but you were wrong to keep the illness from me, Lydia. I feel terrible that I wasn’t there.”

  “You shouldn’t. Aunt took very good care of me, she really did, but the doctors said all the infections and fevers left me barren.”

  Miriam whispered softly, “Sweet lord. And that’s why your fiancé cried off?”

  “Yes.”

  Miriam shook her head. “If he’s that shallow, you’re better rid of him.”

  Lydia agreed. “I know.”

  Miriam then said, “I have something to tell you.”

  Lydia scanned her mother’s still-beautiful face and saw a seriousness there that made Lydia wonder what Miriam was a
bout to say. “What is it?”

  “When your papa died, I swore I’d never love another man—I was determined to stay true to him.”

  Lydia’s father, James, had died of pneumonia a few days shy of her third birthday. She knew that he and Miriam had loved each other very much, but Lydia had no memory of him. She wondered where this story was going. “Is there more?”

  “Yes, so let me tell it in my own way, please.”

  A smiling Lydia dropped her eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

  “Thank you. Now, where was I?” She then added with a mock reproach, “I had this speech all planned out and now you’ve thrown me off.”

  Lydia chuckled. “Sorry, again.”

  Her mother’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Let’s see. Oh, yes. I was talking about the vow I made to say true. Anyway, I stubbornly stuck to the past and turned down every man who came around.”

  Lydia was mildly surprised by the revelation. “You never told me anything about men coming around.”

  Her mother pointed out slyly, “Can’t tell your children everything.”

  Lydia grinned. “Were any of these beaux men I’d know?”

  Miriam nodded affirmatively. “Yes. Watson Miller for one.”

  Lydia was very surprised now. “Our Watson Miller? The doctor?!”

  Miriam nodded proudly. “Yep, the doctor.”

  Lydia was past surprised. Stunned was a better word. “When was this?”

  “A few years after you went away. He and I had crossed paths a few times and I always thought he was a fine man, but what would a doctor want with a washerwoman—besides having his wash done, of course.”

  Lydia could only stare.

  Miriam smiled at the look on her daughter’s face. “Then one day, he came calling. Had flowers and everything.”

  “What?!”

  “Wanted me to have dinner with him.”

  “And you said—”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Can you imagine what kind of talk that would have caused? He’s very respected, Lydia. He didn’t need to be gossiped about because of me.”