Big white flakes drifted before the wind, glistening and dancing in the streetlights. Two days until Christmas. This year they could truly say peace on earth and goodwill to men.
They spent the next two days baking julekake, the Norwegian Christmas bread, sandbaklse, and krumkake and frying fatigman and rosettes. The house smelled of nutmeg and cardamom, pine and cedar. No one was allowed to open a door without knocking or peek into closets or on shelves.
Ingeborg spent the late hours of Christmas Eve afternoon beating rommegrote, a rich pudding, until the melted butter from the cream rose to the surface. When anyone tried to sneak tastes, she batted them away with her wooden spoon. “If you want some, you’ll have to wait or make your own.” She’d been saying the same thing every year that Mary could remember.
When they finally trooped off on the walk to church, Mary stayed in the midst of her family. Kenneth finally sat in a pew a few behind them, a look of puzzlement on his face.
With Daniel glued to one side and Beth, her youngest sister, on the other, Mary put her arms around them and let them hold the hymnal. She didn’t need to see the words; she’d known the carols all her life. And for a change she could sit with her family since other people now played the piano and organ Mrs. Norgaard had donated two years earlier. The music swelled, and the congregation joined in. “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.”
Two people stood to read the Christmas story. “And it came to pass in those days . . .”
Mary could say the words along with the readers. “And they laid the babe in the manger for there was no room for them in the inn.”
A hush fell as Reverend John stepped into the pulpit. He stood there, head bowed.
Mary heard a stir in the back but kept her eyes on her father. When he raised his head, he gasped. He looked to Mary and then to the back of the room.
The buzz grew with people shifting and murmuring.
Mary turned and looked over her shoulder.
The man coming up the center aisle walked as if he knew the way. Well he should. He’d helped lay the carpet.
He stopped at the end of the pew. “Hello, Mary. Merry Christmas.”
“Will.” She rose to her feet. Her gaze melted with his. Her heart stopped beating and then started again, triple-time. She shifted so there was room for him to sit beside her. Hands clamped as if they’d never let go, they raised their faces to the man standing openmouthed in the pulpit.
“Dearly beloved,” John’s voice broke. He blew his nose and tucked his handkerchief up the sleeve of his robe. “I’m sorry, folks, but never have those words been more true.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “We have been given a gift, as you all know. Welcome home, Will Dunfey.”
Mary heard no more of the sermon. Will is alive! Thank You, God, thank You. Over and over the words repeated in her mind. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, and while her chin quivered, she couldn’t quit smiling. Not that she wanted to.
When the benediction sounded, she rose to her feet along with the others. At the final amen, when the organ poured out its triumphal notes, she turned to Will and melted into his arms. Proper or no, the kiss they shared spoke of all their heartache and all their joy. Will Dunfey had come home.
“It was my destiny,” he said later after he’d shaken every hand and been clapped on the back a hundred times by all the congregation. He and Mary were sitting in the parlor at the parsonage with all the Moens, the Weinlanders, and Mrs. Norgaard. “I told Mary I would come home, and Dag taught me to always keep my word.”
A chuckle rippled through the room.
“Where were you?” Daniel held the place of honor at Will and Mary’s feet.
“In a prisoner-of-war camp. I lost my dog tags, and for a long time I didn’t know who I was. I’ve been trying to get home ever since the signing of the peace. Kept me in a hospital for a while, then told me I was dead.” He raised his left hand, leaving his right hand still holding firmly on to Mary’s. “I said I might have been, but I was alive now and my name was still Willard Dunfey.”
Mary laid her head on his shoulder. “Everyone insisted you were dead, but my heart didn’t believe it. I thought I was going crazy, so I asked God for a sign and a couple of days later, your dog tags arrived.”
“When that happened, we were sure they had buried you over there.” Mrs. Norgaard took a lace handkerchief from the edge of her sleeve and wiped her eyes again. “Must be something in the air.”
“Of course,” Dag managed to say with a straight face.
“They would have except for this.” Will took the Testament Mary had given him from his shirt pocket and held it up. A hole showed through the upper half.
“Good God,” John breathed.
“It slowed the bullet so it couldn’t penetrate my ribs. I bled like a stuck pig, but flesh wounds heal. So you see, Mary, you saved my life.”
“The Word of God is powerful in more ways than one.” Gudrun wiped her eyes again. “Pesky cold.”
Later when everyone else had gone home or gone to bed, Mary and Will put on their coats and stepped out on the porch. The storm had blown over, and the stars shone like crystals against the black sky. Will pointed to the end of the Dipper.
“You don’t need to look for me up there anymore because I am right here, and here I will stay. My love for you has only grown deeper, your face kept me from ever giving up, and,” he patted his chest, “I have a scar to remind me how close I came to losing you.”
Mary laid her hand over his. “And I you.”
When he kissed her this time, she could have sworn she heard someone laughing. Was it that man dancing on the last star in the handle of the Big Dipper? Or the angels rejoicing with them?
About the Author
Lauraine Snelling is the best-selling author of over seventy books, both fiction and nonfiction, historical and contemporary for adults and young readers. Lauraine and her husband Wayne live in California with a Basset Hound named Winston. To learn more about the author, you can visit www.laurainesnelling.com.
Read the other stories in this series:
Dakota Dawn
Dakota Dream
Dakota Dusk
Dakota December and Dakota Destiny
Copyright
Dakota December and Dakota Destiny
© Copyright 1996, 2012 by Lauraine Snelling. All right reserved.
Previously published as Dakota Stories II: Dakota Dusk, Dakota December, and Dakota Destiny by Smoky Water Press, Post Office Box 2322, Bismarck, ND 58502-2322. Smoky Water Press is a division of Capital Communications, Inc. Bismarck, North Dakota. Former ISBN: 978-0-9820752-1-0
First electronic printing in 2012 by eChristian, Inc.
eChristian, Inc.
2235 Enterprise Street, Suite 140
Escondido, CA 92029
http://echristian.com
Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.com.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover and interior design by Larry Taylor.
Produced with the assistance of Livingstone, the Publishing Services Division of eChristian, Inc. Project staff includes Dan Balow, Afton Rorvik, Tom Luke Taylor, Jami Taylor, Linda Taylor, Ashley Taylor, Lois Jackson, and Tom Shumaker.
ISBN: EPUB 978-1-61-843204-9
ISBN: MOBI 978-1-61-843205-6
Table of Contents
Dedication
Dakota December
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapt
er 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Dakota Destiny
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
About the Author
Copyright
Dakota December and Dakota Destiny Page 22