“No. Everything is fine.” Alma offered a forced smile but looked away from Roy. It wasn’t good that he took her as a replacement for Janie. He had to understand that before they married. She wasn’t sure he would. She loved his children, but Roy never spent time alone with her. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted a caretaker. “I am feeling chilled. Would you take me home now?”
Roy could have kicked himself. He had called her Janie. Alma had done her best not to let him touch her while he helped her into her cloak. He had to make this better. He could have offered her dry clothes, but that wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t want to wear the dress of Janie’s that he’d kept.
Once in the sleigh, he thought he’d go for distraction. It worked for his daughters. Maybe it would for Alma. “Have you considered what you’d like to bring to the house?”
“My painting equipment, and Papa offered Mama’s china. I’d like to bring it.” She spoke to the side of the sleigh instead of turning his way.
“We’ll probably find a place to store things in the barn. Janie’s china is still serviceable, and I’m not sure where we’d put your paints.”
“As you wish.”
This wasn’t going well. He’d planned to kiss her when he took her home, but now? He’d best wait.
Chapter 9
Something roused Roy. Had Frances cried out? He pushed against the chair arms and rose. He didn’t hear her now.
He was heartsick about calling Alma the wrong name. Even thought of getting Pete to watch the girls so he could go talk to her. Get her to understand he liked having her in his kitchen. Instead, after getting the girls down for the night, he had sat down to rest and had drifted off.
A knock sounded. “Gibbons!”
Roy jerked open the door. “Dr. Pickens. Is Alma all right?”
“No, she is not.” Dr. Pickens marched past him. “I thought you were a decent man.” He paced the room. “I’m giving you my most valuable possession because I thought you were worthy. It seems I’m wrong.”
“Doc, can I—”
“No sir, you cannot. I have a lot to say. My little girl has been in her room since you brought her home. She’s crying, and I can’t make her stop.” He faced Roy. “Do you know how that feels?”
Not sure if he was allowed to speak, Roy just nodded.
“I know you do, because you’ve been raising those girls alone. That’s why this match is a good one. You need each other, but you can’t be calling my Alma by your wife’s name.” He lowered himself into a chair. “Now, what is your explanation?”
Roy sat across from the doctor, dipped his head, and held his forehead with his hands. “It slipped out. Everything felt normal, like we were a family again. I tried to tell her that.”
“She doesn’t expect you to quit loving Janie. She knows what it’s like to lose someone you love, but son, you have to do what your vows said.”
What vows? He and Alma hadn’t said any yet. Confused, Roy straightened his back and gaped at him.
“Remember the part that says, ‘until death do us part’? You have to release Janie and let Alma move into your heart. She needs the bigger space now. Show her you care enough to remember her name. All this coming over to our house in the evening is nice, but it’s not enough. Alma was right. You need to court her so you mean it when you say those vows to her. You better repair this mess right away. Otherwise, you might as well hire a woman to come help in this house.”
“I took her sledding.”
“With your children.”
“She didn’t mind.” He stopped from squirming like a ten-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Why had he thought this would be easy? Alma didn’t know him, and he shouldn’t expect her to.
“Take her out alone. There’s always a bonfire on the weekend down by the pond at Sauer’s place. Bring her candy. Take her ice skating. Hold her hand. Stare into her eyes. Make her feel like she’s the only one in the world. Janie agreed to marry you, so you must know how to court a woman. Do you remember?”
Yes, he did, and the memory hurt. Could he do those things with Alma?
Alma’s heart wasn’t in making Roy’s gift. She’d failed to find out more about him. She knew he cared about his family, but beyond that, she hadn’t even discovered his favorite color. She strolled the store aisle searching for something to use to craft an ornament.
She fingered silk ribbons. Elisbet and Frances would like these. They were easy to buy for, not like their father. If God would send her an idea of what to make, something Roy would save and treasure, she’d be grateful.
The door opened and the sunlight struck something, sending a rainbow through the room. She picked up her pace, and there it was. A beautiful, clear, glass teardrop ornament. The perfect size for painting. She purchased it along with the ribbons and hurried home as the sun set.
She slowed her step. Roy sat on the porch rail waiting for her.
“I heard there was a bonfire tonight. I’d like to take you, just you, if you’ll go with me,” he asked.
Thrilled, Alma ran upstairs and put away her purchases, found warm clothes, and met him at the door. Minutes later they were at Sauer’s pond sitting by a bonfire and lacing on their skates. He’d said little to her on the ride and even now remained quiet. Maybe it was time for her to let go of her anger and give him an opportunity to start over.
She could either continue to be furious or take it as a compliment that Roy was comfortable with her. The fire crackled and popped behind her. “Are we going to be like the wild young ones and take a chance on the ice, or stay by the fire like our elders?”
Roy’s eyes flashed in the firelight. Then he took her hand. “I’m not feeling like an elder, so let’s be young, but not wild. Unless you want to be?”
Was that uncertainty or fear in his voice? “Not up to falling and spinning on the ice tonight?”
“Not when I have to be a father in the morning. If I could lie around in bed like you all day, counting the flowers on the wallpaper, then I might.”
She playfully slapped his arm. “I have never lain in bed all day.”
“What do you do with your days?”
“Lots of things. Paint, feed the chickens, gather feathers for projects.” Alma waved at her friend Katie and her brother as they swished by. “Make dinner for Papa.”
“Feathers? What do you do with them?”
“I’m working on a dye to color them, or sometimes I try to paint them.” Her foot slipped. “Oh!”
Roy caught her, brought her upright, and steadied her. “You paint them and then what?”
“I haven’t found the best application for them, yet. They may have something to do with your special Christmas gift.” She gave her best mystery-smile and skated away. Feathers. Perhaps she could find some way to adhere them to his gift.
Roy circled her then slipped in next to her, taking her hand. “Want to play a game?”
She attempted the eyebrow arch and felt it go a tiny bit higher. “What kind?”
“A getting-to-know-you game. I’ll give you two choices and you guess which one I like. Then you get a turn.”
“I’m first.” She dropped his hand, skated ahead and did a spin, and returned with a question. “Christmas or Fourth of July?”
“You like Christmas because we’ll be married by then.”
“I do like it best, but not because we’ll be married. I love the Nativity story and that’s when Jesus was born.”
“I like that you’ll be my wife and you get to be there when the girls jump out of bed and their eyes are wide with excitement. I can’t wait for you to see that.”
The thin layer of ice around her heart began to drip. He did want to marry her. He’d said that first before anything else. She should apologize for leaving in a huff the other day. Roy pulled her tightly to him as they rounded the end of the frozen pond. “Working in the field or with wood?”
“I think”—she tilted her head and studied his face—“the field, because it p
rovides for your family.”
“Both do, and while I’m grateful, the fields don’t provide much enjoyment. I like making things out of wood.”
“So my gift is made of wood?” She giggled.
“Still a secret. You might be getting nothing more than a splinter.”
“Orange or black?”
“Odd choices for favorite colors. Orange?”
“Black. I like black cats.” A small group of boys began to race on the ice, whizzing past at dizzying speeds. The bonfire looked appealing.
“Cats make me sneeze. Do you think I’d rather eat pork chops or roast and potatoes?”
“Pork chops.”
“Roast, because the next day I can have a delicious sandwich. I haven’t had a good roast since Janie—”
A few boys raced past. One tripped, and his arms went in wild circles as he attempted to stay on his feet. He fell, sliding in their direction. Alma squealed.
Roy whipped Alma away from the sharp blades before they reached her. She ought to be grateful, but all she remembered was hearing the name Janie—again.
In the barn, Roy caressed a piece of wood. He had to prove to Alma he cared. He’d seen the look on her face when he’d mentioned Janie again. If he wanted, and he did, to build a life with her, he needed to start with a good foundation.
He hadn’t lied to her when he’d said she’d get a splinter for Christmas, because she surely would. But it wasn’t her only gift. He had the special one finished, ready for Christmas.
Chapter 10
“Remember you can’t tell your father about this.” Alma tied Frances’s apron and then checked to make sure Elisbet was well covered.
Before the girls arrived, Alma had covered the kitchen table with last week’s Trenton Gazette to protect it from the red and green paint she’d mixed for them to use.
“We won’t.” Elisbet shoved her fists under her chin and squealed. “We keep secrets, don’t we, Franny?”
“Yeth.” Franny gave a missing-tooth grin. Her front tooth had fallen out last week, making her even more adorable.
Alma was unsure about these two. They tended to tell their father about their day the moment they saw him. “Let’s sit at the kitchen table. Be careful—” They were in their chairs, feet kicking against the bottom rungs before she finished her sentence. “Not to knock over the paint.”
“What are we painting?” Elisbet turned in her chair. “I don’t see anything worth keeping a secret.”
“I get the green!” Frances shouted.
“Frances, no yelling. There is enough of both colors. Turn back around, Elisbet. What we are painting is in my apron pocket.”
The room grew quiet as Alma reached into her pocket and withdrew the ornament wrapped in brown paper. “This is it.” She sat between them, set the package on the table, and lifted an edge of the paper, gently unwinding it. “It’s made of glass. We have to be careful.”
Alma held the ornament up for them to see. “We are going to paint our names on it. What do you think?”
No response. No excitement. No anything. She looked at each girl. No smiles. “What’s wrong?”
“Franny can’t write her name.”
“I’ll help her. Would that be okay, Frances?”
“Yeth. Can we paint the paper, too?”
“That’s a good idea. While Elisbet paints her name on the ornament, you can work on half of the wrapping paper. Then we can switch.”
The girls worked with occasional giggles, and Alma had to wipe paint from the ends of their hair a few times.
“Finished!” Frances glowed. “All my letterth are on there.”
Including an adorable fingerprint. Alma didn’t know if Roy would cherish it, but she would.
“Can we put your name and Papa’s on it?” Elisbet asked. “Because Papa said we’re going to be a family. So, can we?”
Alma’s heart swelled with love. “Yes, and we’ll hang it on our tree every year.”
She finished the last stroke on Roy’s y. The back door swung open. Her father rushed in, breathless. “The church is on fire. The wedding’s canceled. Roy’s on his way. Meet him at the front door, and I’ll hide this.”
“We are getting married.” Roy shivered in the cold air. The water on his pants had turned to ice. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course. You’re wet. Go in the parlor where it’s warm. I’ll get hot chocolate for you, to chase the chill.”
“I want—need you to come with me.” He grasped her hand and pulled her along with him. Standing with his back to the fire, willing his teeth not to chatter, he drew her close and kissed her. “Alma Gail Pickens, will you marry me?”
“I don’t under—”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes.”
Her face crinkled, and her eyebrow arched. Did she realize it? He wanted to laugh and then shout, “I love Alma Pickens!”
“Roy?” Her questioning eyes begged for more.
He kissed her again, feeling the heat thaw his lips. “I saw the church in flames, and I knew the wedding would be called off. Then I realized, if this had happened tomorrow while we were there, I might have lost you, and I haven’t told you how I feel. That I love the way you make every activity fun, the way you practice your eyebrow arch, and the way you make me feel like more than a father. You’ve given me my life back, and I never even proposed to you. You deserve that. So I’ll ask you again, Alma, would you marry me? Could you love me the rest of our lives?”
“Yes! I love you, too. But how will we get married? The girls are counting on having a mother on Christmas morning.”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan. If you keep Elisbet and Frances tonight, I promise to make tomorrow a special memory, even without the church.” He tipped her head and kissed her again.
“Are you going to kiss me a lot when we’re married?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m glad. I didn’t know I’d like it so much.” Her face flushed a bright red. “I should get you something to drink, to warm you.”
“I don’t need anything. You’ve thawed my frozen bones, sweetheart.”
Alma waited in Roy’s bedroom, trying hard not to think that it would be her bedroom, too, tonight. Her father had covered her eyes when they entered the house, and the girls led her in so she couldn’t see the decorations. Her hands shook. How she wished Mama was here. Jewel had explained a few things to her, with a scarlet face. Her father had come to her room last night to discuss with her the duties of a wife. Horrified, she’d sent him away.
She’d helped Elisbet and Frances into their red velvet dresses and tied bows in their hair. Their faces were blinding with joy as they scooted from the room. Jewel had helped her put on her dress. The satin, soft as a kitten, slid over her head. She rubbed the red velvet cuff between her fingers. It was perfect. Even more so, she knew she would honor her mother and father by marrying Roy.
It was almost time. Soon she’d be Mrs. Roy Gibbons. Her stomach twirled. She promised God she would be the best wife and mother possible. The door opened, and her father stepped inside, beaming.
He held out his arm. “You’re beautiful, Little Bit. So much like your mother. Are you ready?”
Alma took his elbow and they strolled past the dining room. Roy had placed Mama’s embroidered tablecloth under heaping platters of bread and meat. China dishes and … were those Mama’s cups? They were. Her eyes watered. It felt right, almost as if Mama were here, smiling. It was beautiful, festive.
But the parlor took her breath away. Candles in crystal holders ambled across the mantel, sending warm, dancing lights across the room. A music box played in the background, and Roy waited for her by the fire with the preacher. He’d kept his promise. He’d given her a wedding to remember.
The bedroom door creaked. Alma started. She heard giggles and opened her eyes.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gibbons.” Roy stood inside the door, holding tight to his daughters’ shoulders. “They have s
omething to say.” He let go, and blond hair flew as Elisbet and Frances ran and jumped on the bed.
Elisbet tapped Frances’s shoulder. “One, two, three.”
“Merry Christmas, Mama!” Alma treasured the unison of the sweet voices.
“Come on, girls, let’s let your mama get dressed and meet us in the parlor.”
Alma smiled at her new husband with gratitude.
The girls waited by the tree, pointing out decorations they liked. They asked questions about how the tree got into the house without them knowing, and when could they open presents. They were elated at the ribbons from Alma and the gifts from Roy.
“Mrs. Gibbons? I believe you are to give me a special gift?”
Alma giggled. “It’s here.” She hopped to her feet and brought out a package.
“We painted the paper!” Frances shouted. “And we—”
“Hush, Franny.” Elisbet covered Frances’s mouth. “You’re giving it away. Open it, Papa!”
“Remove your hand from your sister’s mouth, please.” Roy unwrapped the ornament and, if possible, the dimples in his cheeks grew deeper as he smiled.
“Do you like it?” Alma thought so but wanted to hear him say it.
“I do. I see our names and one fingerprint. The feather is a nice touch. That’s from you, Alma?”
“Yes, and the fingerprint is from Frances. I thought it was special.”
“It is, and we will cherish this. One day, this will hang on your tree, Frances.”
Elisbet frowned. “Why does she get to have it?”
“Just wait.” Roy drew a package from his pocket. “Here is my gift, Alma.”
She opened the paper. Inside was an ornament made of blond braided hair shaped into a heart and glued to a small piece of wood. A yellow ribbon twisted with a piece of a black string tie wove through a hole and tied to use as a hanger. “Is this my ribbon?”
“And my tie. I wanted this gift to represent our family.”
“I love it.” Alma pressed it to her heart. “Elisbet, someday this will be yours.”
The 12 Brides of Christmas Collection Page 5