by Karen Kirst
Eli cocked his head. His face screwed up the way it did when he was thinking hard. “Why don’t we give Jesus presents?”
The question was insightful for one so young. “We don’t give Him presents in the usual sense, but we can express our love through other means. Throughout the year, not only on December twenty-fifth. When we show kindness to others, when we help those in need, that pleases Jesus. He also knows that we love Him when we obey His commands.”
Eli considered this for a minute. “I think He’d like the cross we made for the tree, don’t you?”
She leaned forward and caressed his cheek. “I think so, yes.”
He jumped off the bed. Isabel shivered when her stocking feet touched the cold floor. Hurriedly pulling on her dressing gown over her nightclothes, she ran a brush through her hair and tied it back with a ribbon.
Eli hopped from one foot to the other. “Is Ben coming today? Will he eat with us like he used to? I want to show him the stockings hanging from the mantel.”
Needles of regret pricked her. Isabel prayed again for fortitude. She’d been honest with Ben about her feelings, and he’d returned the favor. He didn’t want a future with her. Hiding her sorrow and humiliation from her family hadn’t been easy. Every night since, she’d waited until everyone was asleep to curl up on the sofa and let the tears flow unchecked, pouring her heart out to God. He alone could heal her wounded heart.
It was Christmas Day, however, the day marking the birth of their Savior. She couldn’t dampen everyone else’s joy by giving in to the clouds of depression weighing on her. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow, she could drop the pretense and mourn her loss. Today, she was going to be grateful for her blessings.
As she prepared breakfast with Eli’s help, her mind drifted to Cades Cove and the precious baby girl there. She couldn’t stop imagining Fran living here, brother and sister reunited. Isabel hadn’t voiced the budding yearning in her heart. An unwed spinster adopting one child raised eyebrows. Add a second child—an infant, no less—and she’d likely face direct opposition. That didn’t keep her from dreaming, however.
The Browns’ children were adults. While Agatha and the reverend didn’t mind caring for Fran, they’d agreed on the condition the situation was temporary. Isabel understood their need to be honest about the baby’s parentage. Would that honesty prevent Fran from finding a home?
“Good morning.” Carmen bustled in, bright-eyed and perky even before her morning coffee. She scooped Eli up and twirled him in a circle, narrowly avoiding a collision with the hutch. “Merry Christmas!”
Eli’s giggles tickled their ears. Honor joined them a quarter of an hour later, not in the mood to talk until after she’d consumed food and coffee. They were finishing their meal when someone rapped on the door. Isabel’s heart climbed into her throat. Could it be...
But it was only Clayton Chapman, the man Ben had hired in his place. He turned down her offer of breakfast and placed an unwieldy burlap bag inside the door.
“What’s this?”
“Christmas delivery.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Ben stopped by about an hour ago and asked me to bring it over. Wouldn’t explain why he couldn’t do it himself.”
Ben didn’t want to see her, that’s why.
“Thank you, Clayton.” Her mouth felt full of rocks.
Tugging on his hat brim, he mounted his horse and left. Her sisters and Eli gathered around. Carmen shifted the material, peeked inside and removed a folded piece of paper. Since there was no specific name, she opened it and began reading.
“‘To the Flores sisters, please accept these humble gifts as tokens of my appreciation. You have a knack for making a man feel welcome in your home. Forever your servant, Ben MacGregor.’”
Honor and Carmen looked at Isabel to gauge her reaction. “That was thoughtful of him,” she said matter-of-factly. “I suggest we put them with the others and open them after we’ve read the account of Christ’s birth.”
Eli trailed after Carmen, watching closely as she extracted each wrapped gift.
“Oh look, there’s one with your name on it.”
He clapped his hands together. “Ben got me something?”
Crouched on her knees at the tree’s base, she encircled his waist with one arm. “He wouldn’t leave you out.”
Isabel lifted the heavy Bible from its usual place and waited for everyone to get settled before opening it to the book of Luke. Of course she was reminded of the morning Ben had read this same passage. So much had changed since then, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
When they’d taken turns sharing things they were thankful for, Honor assumed the task of passing out presents. Eager to watch the others’ reactions, Isabel left her gifts untouched. Eli was a delight. He exclaimed over every item, no matter what it was. She could tell his favorite was the tin box of miniature metal soldiers Ben had picked out. He lined them up in a single row on the coffee table and studied each one up close.
Honor exclaimed over Ben’s choice for her—a book of recipes. For Carmen, he’d chosen a crimson scarf with golden thread. She wound it around her neck and modeled it with flair. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous, as ever,” Isabel said. A crate with her name on it waited at her feet. She hesitated to uncover the contents.
“Stop stalling, Isa,” Carmen cried. “I’m impatient to see what he got you.”
Isabel slowly peeled the checked material back and gasped. Honor poked her head close.
“Deer antlers?” Honor looked intrigued.
Carmen gave an exaggerated frown. “What was he thinking? That’s the least romantic gift a man could give a woman!”
Isabel lifted one and tested the hard, bumpy surface. She disagreed. While this wasn’t romantic in the usual sense, it proved he’d taken the time to decide on a gift suited to her exact needs. He would’ve had to get these from a hunter or scour the forest floor for them, a tedious and time-consuming task.
“I can use these for knife handles.”
“Still not impressed,” Carmen sniffed.
Honor smiled. “He knows what Isa likes, that’s all.”
Isabel lugged the crate to her room. Opening her bedside stand, she removed the fabric-covered box containing her gift for him and slid it into her reticule. She would give it to him at church. In such a public setting, she wouldn’t be tempted to make a fool of herself. With the entire town watching, she’d act like a mature adult who could accept when the man she loved didn’t love her in return.
Chapter Twenty-Five
He’d spent several Christmases apart from his family, but this was the first time he’d truly felt alone. As happy, chattering families filed past his spot on the stairs on their way inside the church, Ben told himself to get used to the feeling. His friends had found love and were navigating married life. The more years that passed, the more of an outsider he’d become.
He’d almost convinced himself to go in and find a seat when he recognized Isabel’s wagon rolling into the yard. Sunlight bathed the day in cheery warmth. A white Christmas was rare here, and this year was no different. The cold was enough of a reminder that winter was settling in, however. Without Isabel and Eli, it would be interminable drudgery.
She and her sisters chatted as they hurried past conveyances and horses. Eli noticed him first and, grinning widely, broke into a run.
“Ben, look!” Little legs pumping, he raced up the stairs and produced a tiny soldier from his coat pocket. “I brought one with me.”
Smiling, Ben crouched to his level and examined the toy. “I’m glad you like it, little man.” He gently ruffled his hair. “Merry Christmas, Eli.”
Eli leaned close and hugged his neck. Ben’s chest grew tight. He’d give anything to be this boy’s father. The image of Isabel cradling a sleeping Fran rose u
p to torment him.
The girls arrived at the foot of the stairs. Ben stood up, his gaze riveted to Isabel’s beloved face. He’d missed her. Missed sharing details of his life. Missed seeing her hard-earned smiles.
“Good morning, ladies.”
Isabel’s attention shifted elsewhere, away from him. He hated that he’d caused this rift between them. A clean break was best, he knew that. It would enable them both to heal and move on with their lives.
Except, when he looked at her, he couldn’t see himself coming out on the other side of this ache. The woman he adored was in front of him, and he had to pretend everything was fine. That being near her wasn’t destroying him from the inside out.
The girls thanked him for his gifts. As they passed him on the stairs, Isabel’s brown-black eyes darted his way, and he glimpsed her misery. Straightening her shoulders, she fished something from her reticule and held it out to him.
“What’s this?”
“A present for you.”
He would’ve opened it, but she angled her face away. Holding out her hand, she summoned Eli. The group entered the church without him. Ben forced his feet to move. He found an empty spot at the back and turned the gift over and over in his hands. At the service’s conclusion, he returned the others’ well wishes with false enthusiasm. When he noticed Grant speaking to Isabel in the corner, dread filled him. Surely his friend wouldn’t reveal his secret. But she didn’t approach him afterward. She didn’t even spare him a glance.
At Sam and Mary’s, he summoned the strength of mind to act pleased to be there. He praised the food, thanked those who gave him gifts and accepted a second helping of pie. By midafternoon, he craved solitude.
Grant waylaid him in the barn. “Caleb told me you’re leaving.” He caught sight of the bowie knife and leather sheath and let loose a whistle. “That’s a fine weapon. Where’d you get it?”
Ben let him inspect the handle and test the blade. “Isabel made it.”
His gaze reflected wonder. “Did she carve the image of your badge into the wood, too?”
“She’s a talented lady.”
“This is a personal gift, my friend.”
“If it was that important to her, she would’ve stuck around to watch me open it.”
“What happened between you two?”
He sighed. “Nothing. I made sure of it.”
Sympathy tightened his friend’s face. “I’m sorry, Ben. Look, why don’t you stick around? The day’s only half-over. What are you going to do at home besides stare at the walls?”
“Who knows, I may go fishing. Haven’t had much time for that lately.”
He looked disbelieving. “It’s too cold.”
“It’s never too cold to fish.” He led Blaze into the sunlight.
Grant followed. “Did we do something to make you uncomfortable?”
“If there’s anything the O’Malley clan knows how to do, it’s making a guest feel like part of the family.”
He wasn’t about to confess that being the only single person above twenty had amplified his despair. Shoving his boot in the stirrup, he grabbed the saddle horn and levered himself into the saddle.
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said.
“I’ll swing by later to check on you.” Grant’s blue eyes squinted in the light.
“Don’t you dare,” he grunted. “I’m a grown man. I don’t require a caretaker. Spend the day pampering your wife.”
“Tomorrow then.”
Ben took his time getting home. Once there, he busied himself tidying up the place. Several weeks of neglect had resulted in a layer of dust. He chopped wood. Read magazine articles he’d read before. Completed a word puzzle. And, more out of boredom than hunger, indulged in the leftovers Mary had insisted on sending with him. Outside, dusk descended, followed by full evening darkness. He couldn’t wait for bedtime. The sooner this day was over, the sooner he could focus on the future. A new year would be upon them, which meant a fresh start. Who knew? Maybe he’d take a holiday of his own once Shane returned. He’d certainly earned it.
He could travel down to Georgia. His parents and sisters would be overjoyed. Besides, it would do him good to put some distance between himself and Gatlinburg for a little while.
The knock, when it came, was barely audible. Ben lowered the magazine and cocked his head. Had to be his imagination. Unless an emergency had arisen, no one would venture out on Christmas night.
The sound of shuffling feet on the stoop convinced him there was an actual visitor. He pushed out of the chair and crossed to the door. He was without his boots, his gray wool socks visible, and he’d long since shucked his vest and suit jacket. Whoever was out there would have to understand he hadn’t been expecting visitors.
“How can I help—”
“Hello, Ben.”
“Isabel.” Even the blast of cold air couldn’t unmuddle his thoughts. “What are you doing here?”
She lowered her hood, allowing him a generous glimpse of her hair. The loose locks flowed like ebony ribbons over her cloak and past her shoulders. His mouth went dry.
Her eyes were huge in her face, dark and mysterious. “May I come in?”
He shuffled out of the way. “Of course.”
Closing the door, he remained silent as she glanced around, removed her gloves and began unbuttoning the clasps. She must plan on staying a while.
He fisted his hands. “Why are you here?” When her elegant brows dipped and her mouth pursed, he returned to his seat and sank into it. “What did Grant say to you?”
“He didn’t tell me your secret.” Laying her cloak over one of the chair backs, she advanced, her expression a curious mix of vulnerability and soldier-like determination.
“But he told you I had one?”
“I already knew that.” She didn’t stop until she stood directly in front of him, her boots nudging his. His breathing grew shallow. “He said you were keeping something from me and, since we’re both stubborn and hardheaded, I should try to get it out of you.”
Ben found it difficult to think. She was wearing that plum blouse again. A calculated move? Normally its strict confines lent her a schoolmarm air. However, with that glorious hair streaming free, her plush lips begging to be kissed, the effect was obliterated.
He gripped the chair arms, the cushioning not giving him much to cling to.
“That’s not the only reason I’m here,” she said huskily. Inching even closer, she braced one hand on the chair edge by his left shoulder. With her other hand, she cupped his cheek. “I want to prove something.”
Pulse racing, he stared helplessly up at her. “Prove what—”
Her mouth pressed against his, sweet and shy and shattering. Rational thought was impossible. Reaching up, he framed her face, glorying in the silken sweep of her hair against his hands. With Isabel in his arms, he was home. They could be on the beaches of California or the rivers of Louisiana and still they’d be home. She was his everything.
Caught up in the rapture of her petal-soft caresses, his soul soaring on the heights of the wind currents, he temporarily forgot why he’d ever driven her away.
* * *
Ben’s touch was a healing balm to her bruised and battered heart. He clung to her like a drowning man to a line of rope tossed to him in a stormy sea. Moving her hand to his shoulder, she struggled to stay upright. His lips were sure and seeking. And then he was planting kisses on her jaw and temple, his fingers roaming through her hair in endless exploration.
Triumph singing through her veins, she eased away, testing the ability of her knees to hold her. Smiling, she gently smoothed the strands that had fallen into his eyes.
“We’ve established you want more than friendship.”
The warmth cleared from his eyes. Slowly, his feat
ures shuttered, locking her out. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he muttered, “I like kissing you. That proves nothing.”
Hurt sliced through her. Why did he insist on pushing her away? He returned her feelings. He had to.
“What did Marianne do to you?”
Ben shoved out of the chair and stalked to the bed. Pivoting, he crossed his arms and regarded her as if those tender moments hadn’t happened. “Do? Marianne didn’t do anything except speak the truth. That I’m half a man. Damaged goods.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I got sick the summer of my nineteenth birthday, so sick I almost died. To my family and friends’ amazement, I recovered. But the illness took its toll. Due to my age, the prolonged high fevers and way it affected my body, the doctor informed me that it’s extremely unlikely I’ll ever father a child.”
Shock riveted her to the floor. This was the last thing she would’ve guessed he was hiding. His grief surrounded her, claiming her in its powerful grip. No children? No babies with dark red hair and sparkling green eyes? Flashes of Ben and Eli together rose up to taunt her. He was good with kids. He had much to offer. Knowledge to impart. Love to bestow. Because she loved him, she felt the loss as if it were her own. Why, God?
The question reverberated through her, a cry of anguish. The injustice hurt her heart. Isabel looked into his eyes. The weariness, the cost of bearing this burden, had scarred him. Ben had wrestled with this sentence for years. Everything made sense now.
“Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you, receiving a diagnosis like that. That’s a heavy burden for anyone to bear, but for a nineteen-year-old...and then your fiancée...” Anger at a young woman she’d never met filled her. “She was mistaken. She was young and naive and very, very wrong.”