Once Upon a Christmas

by Kathryn Kelly

  “To Nathaniel,” he said.

  She shook her head.

  Jonathan was suddenly tired. This woman, who was engaged to someone else, should not be in his house. No matter how beautiful she was, there was no point in her being here. She needed to be on her way.

  He turned and picked up the phone from the kitchen cabinet, and dragging the phone cord with it, held it out to her. “Call Nathaniel to come and pick you up.”

  She stared at the phone, but made no move to take it from him. In fact, she turned away and faced the window.

  He groaned and set down the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t want to call him?”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she whispered, her head down.

  His compassion for this girl returned. This Nathaniel person had probably dropped her off like a stray cat, and now she had nowhere to go. She seemed to be a bit simple-minded. Either that or she was in shock about what had happened to her.

  Either way, he couldn’t just dump her out of his home. It was a big house, and there was plenty of room until they could figure out what to do with her.

  Besides, the weather was about to turn cold, and this rain they had been having could turn icy.

  “All right,” he said, rubbing his hands on his face. “You’ll have to stay here.”

  She turned and smiled at him. His heart made a little skip. She may not be a ghost, but she was as beautiful as an angel.

  She wasn’t the kind of girl a man would let go once he had her.

  This Nathaniel must be a piece of work.

  “I don’t have anything to wear,” she said again.

  He didn’t see anything wrong with the dress she was wearing, but he was a little biased. Girls today liked to wear pants about as much as anything else.

  “I’m not sure I have anything you can wear, but I’ll go look.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relief in her voice.

  “You can just… make yourself at home.” He swept his hand toward the kitchen. “I’m in the middle of making some repairs, so watch out for nails and such.”

  Leaving her there in the midst of his construction zone, he dashed upstairs, his mind racing. He and his father had gotten rid of all his mother’s clothes after she passed away, then Jonathan had hauled off about ten garbage bags of his father’s clothes just last week. He was fairly certain there was nothing left other than his few clothes.

  He opened his bureau and rummaged through the clothes he had tossed inside. This really shouldn’t be so difficult. He’d had girls wear his clothes before after a night together. Jonathan was no saint and didn’t pretend to be, but he’d never been married and, not having any sisters, hadn’t paid any attention to the details of women’s clothing.

  He pulled out some shorts, held them up. They would be too big, but they could pin them up. He pulled out a couple of T-shirts and a button-down oxford shirt. It was cold, so she was going to need a sweatshirt and some sweatpants. There was no way she could wear his sweatpants. They would fall off at the first step she took.

  His arms were full of clothing items he hoped she could wear; he dropped them on the bed and started downstairs to get her.

  He smiled, then chastised himself for the thought that had just run through his head.

  He felt the same excitement he’d felt when he’d gotten a new puppy.

  Chapter 5

  Vaughn closed the door to what she had previously known as the master bedroom. Jonathan had left a pile of clothes tossed on the bed. She automatically began to sort them. There were three white shirts, much like he was wearing, a pair of trousers with the legs cut off, and a light blue shirt.

  There was no way she was going to be able to keep those trousers up. She went to the bureau and dug around until she found a long piece of silk cloth that she could use as a belt. She slipped on the trousers and tied the red silk cloth through the loops.

  She then removed her night gown and pulled one of the white shirts on over her head. Since it fell to her thighs, she folded it up to create a band around her breasts. It was big enough that she could then loop it into a little knot to hold it in place.

  There. She had a chemise of sorts. She put the light blue shirt on last, buttoned it, and rolled up the sleeves.

  Standing in front of the mirror, she decided she looked somewhat presentable with the exception of her legs being exposed. There was nothing to be done about it, though, so she ran a brush through her hair and went in search of a chamber pot.

  She found it in behind a door in the bedroom. It was a chamber pot like nothing she had ever seen. It was attached to the floor. How did one clean it out?

  Curious, she pressed the lever on the back of it and jumped back when water swirled and disappeared.

  She put a hand over her mouth and giggled. There was a large bath tub, also secured to the floor. She turned one of the handles and water flowed out of the top and went out the bottom.

  This must be the home of a wealthy man to have such a chamber pot and bath tub. She’d always heard that America was a wondrous place, but nothing prepared her for such luxury.

  Still in awe of her discovery, she went back downstairs in search of Jonathan.

  He was on the floor, a hammer in one hand, a nail in the other. He glanced up when she came into the room and slammed the hammer into his thumb. The string of curse words that followed rivaled any she’d heard from the sailors during her trip across the Atlantic.

  She laughed.

  He leaned back. “I’m glad you find humor in my misery,” he said.

  “Not your misery,” she answered. “But I must look quite a sight for you to hammer your own thumb.”

  He shook his hand, but returned her smile. “I’m impressed with what you’ve done with my clothes,” he said, amusement on his lips.

  “Merci beaucoup,” she said.

  He squinted his eyes. “Mercy indeed. How did you get my shorts to stay up?”

  “Shorts?” She asked.

  He gestured toward the trousers. “Let me see,” he said. “How are they staying up?”

  She backed away. “I can’t show you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “But it’s proper for you to be wearing my clothes?”

  Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she slowly lifted the light blue shirt enough to grab the end of the red silk cloth so he could see.

  He rubbed his thumb with his left hand. “I never did like wearing a tie anyway,” he said.

  “It’s a perfect tie to hold up the trousers.”

  He stood up. “I should run out and get you some sweats before the roads ice over,” he said.

  Sweats? She glanced out the window. His language was strange. And not just his accent. Some of the words he used were unknown to her, but she’d expected that when she’d agreed to come to America.

  “Do you want to come?” he asked.

  She quickly shook her head. Was he suggesting she go in public wearing such a display of clothing? Now she was certain he was addled.

  “Alright,” he said, “Do you need anything else?”

  “A proper dress,” she said.

  “Yeah, well,” he put his hammer on the cabinet and drank from a glass. “No guarantees, but I’ll see what they have.”

  She watched him carefully. Wondered who they were. Perhaps there was a seamstress in town who sold dresses already made.

  “If you’re hungry, you can find something in the kitchen or you can hang out in the living room. I don’t have a lot here since I just moved in.” His eyes locked onto hers, and his voice softened. “I wasn’t planning on having company.”

  She nodded and, taking his words as dismissal, turned and went into the foyer. The house was so similar, yet different. The grandfather clock was there, but there was a slash across its face. She tilted her head and stepped closer, holding her hand up to it. It looked wounded.

  Wounded, but still tickin
g. She ran her hand along the familiar wood. Nathaniel had shown her how to wind it, so she felt intimately acquainted with the clock. But something had happened to it.

  Leaving the clock, she went into the parlor. She didn’t recognize any of the furnishings. A plush green rug had been spread across the floor and matching curtains hung from the window. She went to the window and stared out toward the back of the house. It was cloudy and cold-looking outside. Even as she stood there looking out, she felt a waft of cold air from around the window. She needed something other than the short trousers, and she needed shoes on her feet.

  The front door closed, and she realized Jonathan had left. A roar came from the front of the house. She ran toward the front window and peeked out, but only saw the back of the buggy. Everything in America, it seemed, was noisy.

  Her feet on the cold floor, she dashed upstairs and went back to Jonathan’s bureau. Rummaging around through the piles of clothes, she found two matching socks, one on one shelf and one on another. She pulled the socks on her feet, then set about the task of folding and straightening the clothes.

  His clothes were odd. He had several shirts like he had given her and several pairs of trousers. All but a couple were of thick blue material that felt rough in her hands. He had eight pairs of white legless garments that made no sense to her.

  She sorted and stacked everything – the white legless garments, his socks, his various shirts, and his trousers all on one shelf, leaving one shelf empty. The bottom shelf held a variety of neatly-arranged shoes and boots.

  She then moved to the top shelf, also neatly arranged. He had three pairs of black trousers and three large jackets. The jackets each had four buttons and several pockets. The jackets were made of wool and were quite heavy. She pulled one off the shelf and held it up to her. It fell to her knees. Shivering, she shrugged into it and snuggled into its warmth. She shoved the sleeves up and pulled down a box down from the shelf. Cradling the box to keep from dropping it, she pulled off the lid. It was full of what looked to be heavy coins on ribbons. She closed the lid and replaced the box.

  Donned in her warm socks and jacket, she went back downstairs.

  Halfway down the stairs, she heard an incessant ringing coming from the kitchen.

  She followed the sound and discovered that it was coming from the black box Jonathan had held out to her when he suggested she ask Nathaniel to come and get her.

  Wanting the noise to stop, she reached out and took the top off the box. It stopped ringing.

  As she held what looked to be a handle in her hand, trying to determine what caused it to ring, a man’s voice, yelling “Hello” over and over, came from the handle.

  She dropped the box and the handle onto the floor, turned, and ran back through the house, up the stairs, and to the bedroom.

  Chapter 6

  Jonathan walked around Gibson’s pushing a cart through the ladies’ clothing aisle, contemplating what Vaughn would need for the next few days during the cold weather. December in Mississippi was unpredictable, but there was definitely about to be a cold spell.

  So far, he had three pairs of sweatpants in the smallest size for ladies and was in the process of picking out sweatshirts. She would definitely need smalls. He tossed three in the cart, going with basic colors to match the pants – gray, black, and navy.

  She’d asked for a dress, so he flipped through a display of dresses and picked two. One was a yellow-and-white paisley with long sleeves and slightly flared skirt. The other was a similar style but was black, covered with medium-sized polka dots.

  He then grabbed some socks before he came to the underwear aisle. Did she need underwear?

  It only made sense. If she was here with no clothes, she would need underwear. He glanced around, but there was no else nearby. Jonathan had never bought women’s underwear before. He tossed a pack of panties into the cart. One glance at the bra section, and he decided she didn’t need to wear a bra. He had no idea where to even begin choosing a size or style in that department.

  Shoes. He groaned. He should have asked her shoe size. He rummaged around until he found a pair of boots that he thought might fit her and put them into the cart. Having the basics out of the way, he went to the checkout counter and endured the speculative glances of the clerk. Her name was Mrs. Lawrence. That’s all he knew about her other than the fact that she had been working there when Jonathan came to the store as a child with his mother.

  From her expression, he could see that if the police came by asking about a missing or kidnapped girl, she wouldn’t hesitate to point her finger at Jonathan.

  On his way out to the truck, the newspaper headline caught his attention. Troop Numbers Increasing In Vietnam.

  After a quick stop by the grocery store for bread and other basic food items, he hurried home. It was drizzling now, and it was only a matter of time before the temperature dropped, and they were isolated on the plantation.

  Jonathan didn’t mind living alone. In fact, he preferred it. Since he had no family left, he’d adapted to being alone.

  But the thought of spending time with Vaughn had his blood tripping up a notch. She was quiet and a bit odd, but her beauty more than made up for it. Jonathan had spent four years in college, then traveled the world as part of the Air Force stationed in Vietnam, but never had he encountered a woman so beautiful as Vaughn.

  He could not have found a more delightful creature if he had gone looking. But he had just been minding his own business when she had shown up in his house.

  He drove down the long, wooded driveway and stopped in front of the house. His arms loaded with bags, he slammed the door closed with his foot and went up the front steps and inside.

  He dropped everything onto the kitchen table. The telephone was on the floor, the receiver shooting out a busy signal. He picked it up and set it back on the counter, hanging up the receiver.

  Vaughn wasn’t downstairs, so he threw the groceries into the refrigerator, grabbed the bags of clothing, and took them with him upstairs.

  The grandfather clock chimed the eleven o’clock hour as he reached the landing on the stairway. Vaughn had appeared in his house so suddenly, that he now entertained the possibility that he’d imagined her after all. The whole situation was improbable… unless she was out to rob him. But he had very little of value. Certainly no money around the house.

  She must have been a ghost.

  The thought came back to him and trashed his good mood. He didn’t want her to be a ghost or someone out to rob him or someone crazy who’d just accidentally found her way into his house and then wandered away to the next place.

  He wanted her for himself.

  He went straight to his bedroom and found her huddled on the bed against the headboard, her knees drawn up and her head down.

  He dropped the bags and climbed onto the bed next to her.

  She gasped and jerked away.

  “Whoa,” he said, holding his arms up. “You’re safe.”

  She stilled and looked at him, her eyes round with fear.

  “What is this?” he asked, running a hand along the sleeve of his uniform.

  “I was cold,” she said, and he could tell that she’d been crying.

  “It’s okay.”

  He wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her, but he didn’t want to frighten her even more. The sight of her small frame in his military jacket created a strange sense of protectiveness in him. “I brought you some things to wear.”

  Something had happened while he was out. He’d been gone less than three hours. It was a forty-five-minute drive into town, and it had taken him about an hour to do the shopping.

  “What happened?” He asked, though he didn’t expect her to tell him.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said, latching her big green eyes onto his. His heart did a little flip. Whatever was wrong, he wanted to fix it.

  “Are you sick?” He asked. He would drive her to the emergency room if it would take away the pain he saw in
her face.

  “No,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then what? What happened?”

  “I knew things would be different in America, but I didn’t realize just how different. It’s like a whole different world.”

  “America?” He asked. She had an accent, but he’d just assumed she was from down south around New Orleans.

  “Yes. I came over from France on a boat.”

  “On a boat. All the way from France?” The very idea was unfathomable to Jonathan.

  She nodded. “My friend Mary. Everyone. They were all killed.”

  Jonathan didn’t have television, and he rarely turned on the radio. He preferred to stay isolated. Perhaps there was an accident he hadn’t heard about. He hoped Mrs. Lawrence from Gibson’s didn’t send out the police to look for Vaughn, if indeed, she was reported missing.

  “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms.

  She hesitated, but came into his arms and leaned her cheek against his chest. He realized then just how young she was. How young and innocent. His protective instincts were in full force.

  Chapter 7

  Vaughn allowed him to hold her against him, knowing that it went against propriety. Though she’d just met this man, Jonathan, she had a sense that he was a good man. With everything she’d been through these past few months, she trusted her instincts for that.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and comforted herself with words the nuns had told her before she left the orphanage. Be strong. God will protect you. This will be an adventure of a lifetime. Embrace it. Go forward and make your place in the world.

  She’d turned seventeen on the trip over. Knowing that she had a husband waiting for her had been comforting. They’d been known as the Casket girls. Girls who brought their wedding dresses with them in their valises. Girls who would marry once they’d reached the new world. She’d had nothing to offer a man in France. No dowry or family to help her find a suitable husband.