Abe McGuire sat next to his daughter, who held Lou-Lou on her lap. His son-in-law had taken the place on Barbara’s other side, with the hired girl bringing up the end. As he watched his grandchildren in the choir and listened to them sing Emmeline’s favorite Christmas carol, Abe felt tears well.
He glanced at his daughter. Barbara looked his way, and he saw the moisture in her eyes. They shared a smile of understanding, and she reached for his hand and squeezed. All is well, he thought. Life is good.
On the other side of the church, Hortense Cobb, sitting next to her husband, barely listened to the children singing so sweetly. Instead she reviewed the week’s earnings. The mercantile had done a rousing holiday business, the best they’d ever had. Mentally, the shopkeeper tallied up her profits and planned what items she’d order for next Christmas. Her husband dozed next to her, and she let him be, glad to think her own thoughts.
Pepe Sanchez had brought his bride-to-be to the pageant. Every morning since their engagement, he’d driven to Lucia’s home to pick up little Sanchia and bring her to school. She stayed for the choir rehearsal, and then he’d drive her home and spend time with Lucia. He was proud to know he was helping Sanchia to get the education denied her because she couldn’t walk to school. Sanchia sat in a chair in the front row, a wide smile of happiness on her thin face.
When Pepe had walked into the church, carrying Sanchia and with Lucia at his side, he thought he’d burst with pride. Even now he felt conscious of her body next to his, and realized, in a few weeks, she’d become his. The more time he spent with Lucia, the more he realized the wisdom of his choice, and he sent up a prayer of thanksgiving to the Blessed Virgin.
Samantha Thompson snuggled as close to her husband’s side as decorum would allow. Sometimes she still had a hard time believing she’d married the rancher. A year ago, she’d lived an unhappy life in Argentina, grieving for her late husband and confined to her father-in-law’s hacienda. Now she knew the daring decision she’d made to move with her son to Sweetwater Springs had been Heaven-inspired.
This year, she had a husband she adored, and in addition to her Daniel, had acquired three other sons and a daughter. Marriage had mellowed Wyatt. And in many ways, he let her know every day of his love for her and their family. Who could have known such blessings had lain in store?
~ ~ ~
Marta Heisman wore the beautiful blue dress Mrs. Sanders had given her, saying that a soloist deserved a new outfit for the occasion. Marta’s mother had curled her hair in rags the previous night, and the long ringlets trailed down her back. Sometimes she turned her head, just to feel them bounce against her head and shoulders.
For the first time since her vati died, Marta felt excitement bubbling inside her. She’d become friendly with the other students, who’d stopped teasing her. She still couldn’t understand them much, but she learned more English words every day. She participated in the other songs, which Mattias had helped her learn, and watched as several of the older children put on the pageant. She didn’t need to know the words to follow the familiar story of the birth of the baby Jesus.
Then her turn came. She glanced over at Tim Cassidy Thompson, dressed in a suit like a grown man, and caught his eye. Tim had already performed a solo of “Oh Holy Night” that brought his mother to tears. Together, the two of them stepped onto their own little stage that Mr. O’Reilly had made for them.
She looked up at Tim to make sure he was ready, and then half turned and nodded to Mrs. Norton. The strains of music started. Marta opened her mouth and sang:
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles Schalft, Einsam wacht
As Marta sang the first notes, she saw the startled and amazed expressions on people’s faces. Her mother’s thin face lit up, and she gave her daughter a misty smile.
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockingen Haar
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Then it was Tim’s turn. He took a deep breath, and his voice soared. Even though they’d practiced together, tonight he sounded more beautiful than anything she’d ever heard.
Silent Night, Holy Night
All is calm, all is bright.
Tim glanced down at Marta and smiled at her with his eyes, before looking back at their audience. Warmth filled her chest.
‘Round yon virgin Mother and Child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Marta searched for Tim’s parents in the crowd. His beautiful mother had tears in her eyes. She exchanged a beaming look of love with her husband that made Marta’s heart ache in a good way. Then the two of them focused on Tim with identical expressions of pride.
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Marta sang verse two in German, and Tim followed in English. Then for verse three, they sang together, the English and German words entwining together, binding the two children together, and connecting them with everyone who listened.
The final words of the last verse trailed away. For a moment, there was a hush, before a thunderous applause broke out, and people surged to their feet. Some wiped their eyes. Are they supposed to be clapping in church?
Marta glanced over at Reverend Norton, whose stern appearance usually scared her. But he had joined the rest of the people in clapping. The approval on his face made her wonder why she’d been frightened of him.
She allowed herself to relax and enjoy the wave of applause breaking over them. Marta glanced at her mother, who had tears running down her face, but her smile was the happy one Marta hadn’t seen in a long time. She no longer looked drawn and sad, but the pretty Mutti her Vati had adored.
A hand brushed her head. But when she turned to look, no one stood close on that side of her. But she caught a whiff of a familiar scent, cigars-and-Vati smell, and knew in her heart her father had come to listen to her sing. She could hardly wait to tell Mutti.
Tim took her hand. The curl of his fingers around hers was comforting and good. He bowed, and she followed by dropping a curtsey. They hadn’t rehearsed that, but the gestures felt right.
They straightened, and the wave of applause died off. But the feeling of approval and of connection with these people remained inside her. Marta knew she’d found a new home.
~ ~ ~
Pamela Carter sent her family home with her husband, who was to return for her in the morning. As she walked through the crisp, starry night to the Camerons’ house, she thought about what an extraordinary day this had been. And now her life-long best friend was about to deliver her first child. Not for the first time, Pamela congratulated herself on finagling Elizabeth out to Montana.
Now if only Elizabeth had a quick and safe delivery, and the baby was born healthy… Pamela could truly rejoice. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on the fear that had niggled her all evening—that Elizabeth, or the baby, or both, wouldn’t survive childbirth.
Please, dear Lord, keep her safe. Keep both of them safe. Ease her pain. Make the delivery rapid.
Pamela knocked on the door, and Alice Cameron let her in. The doctor’s wife had already pulled the pins out of her unruly sandy-colored hair, and had plaited it in a long braid. “I just checked with Dr. Cameron. Elizabeth is doing as fine as can be expected.”
Pamela stepped into the entry. In the green wall-papered parlor to the side, Nick sat in a leather chair, his body stiff. He jumped to his feet, hurrying forward.
“I’m glad you’re here, Pamela.” He hurried out the words. “Dr. Cameron’s been bringing me reports, but not often enough. I know childbirth takes a long time. I’ve delivered enough foals. But it’s different when you’re right there, helping out. You’re not so helpless.”
“And when it’s your wife, not a horse,” Pamela teased.
He ran a hand over his head and made a sound of frustration. “Of course.”
“I’ll go to her. Tell her about tonight.”
“The pagean
t went well?”
“Beautifully.”
“Good. That will ease her mind. But she’s sparkin’ angry at missing the performance.”
“Sparkin’ angry,” Pamela echoed in a wry voice, “is a not uncommon emotion women experience while giving birth. At some point, it will probably be directed at you. Just pay it no mind. It won’t last.”
Nick let out a frustrated groan and dropped back into the chair.
Pamela patted his shoulder. “She’ll be all right.”
He clutched her hand. “She has to be. I couldn’t bear to lose her, Pamela. And it would be all my fault.”
“Nicholas John Sanders, it would be no such thing,” Pamela said sternly. “I happen to know Elizabeth was quite an active participant in making this baby.”
He flushed.
Pamela softened her voice. “Beth wants this child more than anything. So no more talk about fault and blame, you hear me?”
Nick squeezed her hand before releasing it. He looked calmer. “Go to her.”
A muffled cry made Pamela race out of the parlor and down a hallway. She followed the sounds of pain into a room. Elizabeth lay in a big bed, in the throes of a contraction. She let out a grinding moan, her face contorted, hair straggling down.
Dr. Cameron talked Elizabeth through it.
His calm brogue brought back memories of her own confinements. Pamela shuddered, glad those times were probably behind her, and she had three healthy children to show for her efforts. She waited in the doorway until the contraction eased. Then she stepped into the room. “Beth, dear.”
Elizabeth gasped for breath, then gave her a wan smile. “It’s worse than I thought. How do women survive this and do it again?”
“Because we forget the worst of it. Because we have no choice if a baby’s inside us. Because we want more children.” Pamela ticked off the list and moved to the bedside. She sat down in a chair next to the bed and took Elizabeth’s hand. “If it’s any comfort, during this process it’s normal to hate your husband and vow to never share his bed again. But at some point that will change.”
With a squeeze of her hand, Elizabeth nodded. “Tell me about how it went tonight, Pam.”
“Before I tell you about the Christmas pageant, I have other news. Sweetwater Springs now has a sheriff.”
Doc Cameron, who’d taken a seat on the other side of the bed, nodded in approval. “Good news, indeed.”
Pamela poured out the story, stopping when contractions hit, and Elizabeth crushed her hand and cried out in pain and effort. After Elizabeth caught her breath, Pamela would continue. Then she segued into the Christmas Pageant. “You gave Sweetwater Springs a wonderful present tonight, Beth. A gift of song and laughter, shared by the whole community. John stood up at the end and gave a small speech, thanking you.”
A glimmer of gratitude lit Elizabeth’s eyes.
Pamela went on to describe the pageant and the dinner and the distribution of presents. Between the contractions, she drew out the details, distracting Elizabeth. She dabbed her friend’s wet brow, held her hand, and, when the time came, she encouraged her to push. And all the while, she prayed.
~ ~ ~
Elizabeth Sanders labored through the long hours of the night, and in the dawn of Christmas morning, brought forth her firstborn daughter. Like Mary, the mother of Jesus, Elizabeth gazed with awe and love at the baby in her arms. Although exhausted and aching, her spirit rejoiced, for at long last she was a mother.
They’d planned to name a girl Anne Marie after both the baby’s grandmothers. But that was when she was supposed to be a January baby.
Elizabeth looked up at her husband, sitting in a chair next to the bed. He’d stayed up all night, pacing across the Camerons’ parlor. His drawn face, the stubble on his cheeks, showed his exhaustion. But the tenderness in his eyes took her breath away.
The two of them were alone. Pamela had gone home to her family, and the Camerons had excused themselves to lie down.
Carefully, so as to not wake the baby, Elizabeth reached to grasp Nick’s fingers. “A Christmas baby needs a special name.”
“Mary?” His tone turned teasing. “We could spell it, M-E-R-R-Y.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.
“Joy.”
“She certainly is a joy, but I’m not sure she’ll thank us when she’s grown.”
“How about Carol?”
“Our Christmas Carol? Carol Anne Marie Sanders.”
Nick ran a finger across the baby’s silky cheek. “Awfully big name for such a little mite. But I like it. I think our mothers would too.”
“She’ll grow into it.”
“That she will. She’ll be as strong and beautiful as her mother.”
Elizabeth smiled at her husband. “And as caring and giving as her father.” She lifted up the baby. “Time to hold her.”
He gently took his daughter and cradled her in his arms, murmuring sweet words to the infant.
Elizabeth knew she dearly loved her husband, but seeing him holding their child, changed and enriched her love for him. I have my own family now. Tears of happiness blurred her vision. She lay back against the pillows of the bed and gave grateful thanks for dreams coming true on Christmas.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m blessed to have had a wonderful, talented team working on Montana Sky Christmas.
Many thanks to:
Delle Jacobs, cover artist
R.J. Sullivan, critique partner
Louella Nelson, developmental editor
Linda Carroll-Bradd, copy editor
Adeli Brito, copy editor
Amy Atwell, formatter
Thanks to Laura Drake for fact checking my knitting details. Thanks also go to Mary Kraszewski who, with a few sentences during a trail run, inspired the story, Red Stockings for Christmas.
MONTANA SKY SERIES
in order:
Wild Montana Sky
Starry Montana Sky
Stormy Montana Sky
Montana Sky Christmas: A Sweetwater Springs Short Story Collection
Painted Montana Sky: A Sweetwater Springs Novella
Look for more Montana Sky books, novellas, and short stories in the future.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today Bestselling author, Debra Holland, is a psychotherapist and corporate crisis/grief counselor, who lives in Southern California with her dog and two cats. Montana Sky Christmas is the latest book in her best-selling Montana Sky Series. In addition to sweet historical romance, Debra also writes fantasy, science fiction, as well as nonfiction. Debra has published The Essential Guide to Grief and Grieving with Alpha Books. Look for her other fiction and nonfiction books online. You can download her free ebooklet: 58 Tips For Getting What You Want From a Difficult Conversation on her website: http://drdebraholland.com.
You can contact Debra at:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/drdebraholland
My blog: http://drdebraholland.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Red Stockings for Christmas
Ghost of Christmas Past
Irish Luck
Kayleigh’s Christmas Goose
A Sheriff for Christmas
Feliz Navidad
A Christmas Pageant
Acknowledgments
Montana Sky Series
About the Author
Montana Sky Christmas: A Sweetwater Springs Short Story Collection Page 14