by Yvonne Jocks
After “Noel” they sat again. The reverend began to read the Christmas story. Jack could almost quote it with him—not from his pa's sermons, but from his mother's daily readings. He surely would have paid a price for winking in church a couple of decades earlier. Worse than the whipping, though, would be his pa's claims that maybe it was Jack's fault, the next time they were asked to move on. They were always asked to move on. And it was always Jack's fault or his brother's or his sister's— until they'd died of fever—or his mother's. Never Pa's.
The older and smarter Jack got, the more he questioned the hypocrisy. He knew the church ladies'
casual cruelty. They preferred to turn a blind eye rather than face ugliness in their own congregations. They'd rant against easy targets—drinkers or gamblers, most of whom didn't give a hoot anyhow. But let someone dare suspect that a banker beat his wife, or a local farmer had locked up his simpleton daughter to starve her, and those righteous women lost their crusading spirit quick enough. Family matters, they would say if pressed, were none of their business.
As if drinking and gambling were.
But had the ladies actually sent the Harwoods packing just because his ma had midwifed an unwed mother? Or was his pa a no-account lying coward?
By time he reached eleven, Jack was trying to get his mother to leave, but she refused. Then things got better for a while. His Uncle Isham, a riverboat pilot, got them settled at a church in Ma's hometown. Even as a ghost of its former grandeur, Jefferson, Texas, was the finest town Jack had ever seen. He'd never met anybody so worldly, so fascinating as his uncle. Isham seemed
everything his own father was not. Ma seemed to finally start coming to terms with the long-ago deaths of Jack's siblings.
Then Pa lost the church in Jefferson. Ma hanged herself. And Jack had run off to live on a riverboat.
In all that time, he'd never been back to a church—until now.
“... stand and sing, 'Oh, Holy Night.' ”
Jack stood. Jack sang. And Jack regretted ever letting Ferris goad him into coming here, even for Audra. He looked away from her to the yuletide decorations—something else that his pa had denounced as sinful. And he noticed the way little ones kept sneaking glances at that tree, so stoked up with expectation that he doubted they'd heard the sermon.
Not that he had, either.
Still , it eased him some. He couldn't remember being near so many small children at one time, and they proved to be fascinating critters. One tyke, not much more than an infant, stared at him over its mother's shoulder from the row ahead of him, drooling and smiling and occasionally waving its slobbery hand with irrepressible glee. Another child, a little black-haired girl, kept leaning out into the aisle to better see the tree, with an expression so prim she obviously thought nobody could see her doing it. Some of the children's folks seemed right fond of them, too, touching a little head, patting a little back, even kissing a little cheek ... as easily as if they did it all the time.
It seemed religious folks need not be so mean-spirited as he remembered. He had more sense of how a gal as deep-down kind as Audra could count herself among them, anyhow.
But even as his nausea faded, Jack felt shaken. He'd put too much effort into leaving past ugliness in its grave. Through moderate drinking, immoderate gambling, occasional women, and all-around fun, he'd avoided feeling anything too deeply. He wasn't about to start now, even if those feelings concerned something as pretty and unspoiled as Audra Garrison herself.
Ferris elbowed him in the ribs, and Jack saw that the minister and his wife were passing out the presents. The church became a riot of squeals, gasps, and thank-yous as eager hands unwrapped clothing, dolls, pocketknives.
So this was what Christmas could be.
But as Jack waited for Audra to receive her gift, he couldn't help but feel his own dark gratitude—
gratitude that he'd soon be well away from this little farming community and back to the world he'd happily chosen, where he belonged.
And where she, unfortunately, did not.
Audra had never known a better Christmas service.
She tried not to sneak peeks at Jack throughout the service— Reverend Col ins deserved her attention—but occasionally she gave in to temptation. Jack looked so wonderful, fresh-shaven with his hair neatly combed, his tailored frock coat sculpting the clean line of his figure, a gold watch chain glinting from his vest. But better than his outward appearance, of course, was his apparent inward transformation.
He'd come to church!
She wondered if her influence had anything to do with it, and fervently hoped so. Some of her behavior, of late, might not seem quite so wicked if she could excuse it as a form of, well, missionary work.
She enjoyed the service but enjoyed watching the children get their presents more. She'd given her pupils their gifts on the last day of class—new pencils for each of them—but now regretted not saving them for Christmas morning. Next year...
But that thought sobered her quickly. Would she not be with her family next year?
Could she still teach school, if she were?
Mrs. Col ins thrust a package into Audra's hands with a hurried smile, then moved on to distribute other gifts. For her?
Audra stared at the muslin-wrapped square in awe. She had a present? But who ... ?
The obvious explanation washed over her like rainwater. This time she managed the self-control not to look toward Jack and instead savored the heft and feel of her surprise for a long, increasingly happy moment. What a wonderfully, sinfully clever man! She could not accept a gift directly from him. But she could accept an anonymous present from the church tree!
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, suddenly wild to know what he had gotten her, Audra slid off the string and unfolded the dark green muslin. Her hand shook as she revealed a book.
Duty and Domesticity: Being, a Gentle Guidebook for the American Girl toward the Ultimate Rewards of Modesty and Comportment.
Bewildered, she reread the title twice, then finally remembered to blink. When she realized she was starting to frown, she quickly smoothed out her expression for fear of being rude. She must not turn her nose up at any gift, but... this?
Somehow it did not seem the sort of book Jack would give.
When she dared peek toward him, he was watching her with interest . . . and curiosity. The book wasn't from him? Then who . ..?
“If you read it faithfully, there may yet be hope for you,” said Aunt Heddy from her pew.
“Thank you!” exclaimed Audra quickly, grasping her aunt's bony hand and then holding out the book so that they could both admire its pretty leather cover. "You know how I love to read. And this looks highly ... informative!"
Al gifts should be accepted graciously—unless given by a known gambler, or a man not official y paying court... or both. Perhaps some rules did make less sense than others.
“No need to prattle, child,” scolded Heddy, so Audra looked back to her book. Modesty and comportment. For a moment, fear flared. Had her aunt noticed behaviors that Audra would prefer never be discovered? Or was it possible ...
Her rancher father might easily have said the same thing— there may yet be hope for you—and in his terse, Germanic way meant it with affection, even humor. Was there more of Papa in his sister than Audra had recognized?
Reverend Col ins himself appeared beside her. “Well, aren't you popular today, Miss Garrison!” he said. Before Audra could ask him what he meant, he had pressed a second package into her hand, this one smaller than the first, and moved on.
This time she had to know. She looked toward the bench where Jack Harwood sat beside Ferris Hamilton, both bachelors somewhat adrift amid the celebration around them.
Sensing her interest, Jack widened his eyes with a complete innocence that confirmed it. This gift was from him.
Audra opened it more slowly, savoring the suspense as she slid away an indulgent length of green ribbon and carefully unfolded snowy white paper.
Inside she found a wooden box, longer than it was wide. A necklace? Panic warred with fascination. A necklace would be too much. Even
anonymously, she mustn't accept it.
But when she opened the box and peeked at its velvet interior, it revealed not a necklace but a pen. A sleek, silver-and-bone, newfangled fountain pen.
She had never seen anything so pretty in al her life!
After simply staring at the pen for some time, admiring its line and slim barrel, she slowly, reverently lifted it from its purple couch, and it fit her hand perfectly. A peril Perfect for writing home to her beloved family. Perfect for marking compositions. Perfect for being ... Audra.
When she looked up, sought out Jack again, he looked blurry. Was she crying again?
“I do not see what is wrong with a simple dip-pen,” noted Aunt Heddy, claiming Audra's attention as quickly as that.
Audra held the prize to her chest, as if afraid someone would snatch it away from her, and blinked to clear her vision. “I think it's . . . enchanting]”
“Something like that is far too fine for everyday use.” Then Aunt Heddy asked the dreadful question: “Who is it from?”
Thank goodness Audra was looking at her pen, instead of at her aunt. If she admitted her admirer, she would be made to return the present—this best Christmas present ever! But to say she didn't know would be to lie. Had she fallen so low that she would lie to keep a gift?
“There is no card attached,” she said slowly, turning the box. and then, feeling as dishonest as a pickpocket, looking at both sides of the paper wrapping.
Aunt Heddy made a huffing noise, but said nothing else.
Audra carefully laid the pen back into its case, then held the box tightly. This was hers. If she must accept the book in good graces, she would keep the pen as well . She would]
“Will you play another carol before we finish the service?” asked Reverend Col ins then, so Audra did—with the pen case laid carefully in her lap. She played “Joy to the World.”
He'd done it. Darling Jack had managed to give her a Christmas gift. If only she had something to give him!
She glimpsed him once more that morning, as everyone left the church.
“Miss Garrison,” Jack said, as she and Heddy passed nearby. “You make beautiful music.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harwood,” said Audra—and even though he didn't grin, she felt a deliciously intimate shiver as she met his beautiful sapphire eyes. She hoped he could read her own. Thank you so very much! “You are too kind.”
“That, ma'am, would be right near impossible.”
“Audra,” warned Aunt Heddy, her tone as dour as ever.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Harwood,” said Audra, backing away a step but reluctant to turn from him.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she added toward the storekeeper, who'd been corral ed by the minister.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Garrison,” said Jack—and then he grinned. “Mrs. Cribb.”
Aunt Heddy only sniffed loudly, caught Audra by the hand, and led her off toward home. Audra caught a final glimpse of Jack's white teeth, his dancing eyes, before she turned to keep from falling or dropping her precious gifts.
“It is best,” said Aunt Heddy, once they were alone, “to ignore men like that. They take anything more as encouragement.”
Audra asked, “Men like that?”
"Trouble, child. Men like that feel they have the right to live outside the boundaries of common decency. That makes them trouble."
Audra thought about it a moment, then smiled secretly at the live oak they passed. The cedar break would be along soon.
Then she said, “Yes, ma'am,” because her aunt was right. Jack Harwood was trouble.
Wonderful, enchanting trouble.
Chapter Fifteen
Teachers may not dress in bright colors.
—Rules for Teachers
Aunt Heddy prepared Christmas dinner in silence, as usual. Audra hummed Christmas carols as she helped. Whenever she truly wanted to smile, all she need do was think: He came to church! The thought glowed through her, warmed her as surely as, well, whiskey might, but without the coughing. As she pumped water, peeled potatoes, stoked the stove, and ground coffee, Audra's heart began to allow her tiny peeks at her own secret Christmas wishes. If Jack was rehabilitated, truly a changed man, then was there anything wrong with her wanting to spend time with him?
Teachers must not keep company with men. But the school year would end by May, and then . . .
who knew what could happen?
Of course, if Jack did court her respectably, there would be no more such displays of wantonness as in the woods or—she flushed—in this very kitchen. They would be strictly chaperoned. But with chaperones came order and safety. They could visit. She could ask after his family and tell him about hers. And if they were, in fact, suited ...
She dared not pursue such thoughts further. Her fantasy lacked a few significant ingredients—Jack taking up a trade, or the not-so-minor detail of him actually speaking for her. But such particulars could work themselves out, couldn't they?
What was wrong with letting her heart take a ... gamble?
So caught up was she in her daydreams that Audra did not hear the carriage first.
“Who could that be?” demanded her aunt, looking up from a batch of biscuit dough. "And on Christmas Day!"
“I'll go see,” offered Audra quickly, wiping her hands on her apron and hurrying to the front door.
Neither Claudine nor Melissa should be returning for a week yet.
She opened the door—then stared at the unfamiliar buggy, its elderly female passenger, and the man hopping down from the driver's seat. For the briefest moment he looked like a young, clean-shaven version of her papa.
“Child, who is it?” demanded Aunt Heddy again.
But instead of answering, Audra launched herself out the door and into the coated arms of her beloved older brother, come all the way from Wyoming. “Thaddeas!”
“Oof!” said Thaddeas, arms closing tight around her. He swung her all the way around with her feet off the ground, as if she were a little girl again. “Merry Christmas, Audie!”
Then he set her down, kissed her cheek, leaned back—and frowned a piercing frown, so much like their father's. “What happened to your hair?”
With more biscuits, their dinner easily stretched to feed four. Thaddeas had brought with him their grandmother Garrison, Heddy's aged mother, from the hill country.
“We were supposed to be here three days ago,” he explained between bites of dinner. "But the Union Pacific got snowed in south of Denver. Once I reached Texas and fetched Grossmutti, the Kansas-Texas line—the Katy, I mean—flooded out for half a day. I am not looking forward to telling Elizabeth that Christmas arrived before we did!"
Elizabeth was their mother—Thad's stepmother, though the family rarely saw the difference. This afternoon sharply reminded Audra of it. Grandmother Garrison, der Grossmutter to Audra, was Thad's Grossmutti—less formal because they'd been close during his childhood. And when Aunt Heddy, who'd raised him while their father trailed cattle, first laid eyes on him, she actually whispered the endearment, “Liebling!” As if he were still a child, not a full-grown man and frontier lawyer. He'd looked startled at that.
Then he'd folded Aunt Heddy into a separate hug, more respectful than Audra's.
Now Audra said, “You don't have to tell Mother you were late,” and Thad gave her that same startled look.
“Of course I do,” he said—and that was that.
After dinner, Christmas came all over again with surprises from home. Some gifts were for Heddy, of course, and some for Grossmutter, but most were for Audra, including a myrtle green party dress, complete with a lace-trimmed taffeta petticoat.
“You will send it back, of course,” noted Aunt Heddy.
“Send it back?”
Grossmutter tsked at her less-than-ladylike response. Filling her arms with fabric, Audra realized she was being p
ossessive about her gifts today. First Jack's pen, and now this. But the gown was so pretty. And Audra felt so weary of wearing solemn colors.
Somehow she managed the words. “I suppose it is too gay for a schoolteacher.”
“I'm under strict orders,” admitted Thaddeas with feigned regret. "Mother wants me to take you out in Fort Worth on New Year's Eve. We'll rent hotel rooms, so that you needn't appear less than scholarly until we've left Candon. Then you can just be my baby sister for a night."
Audra barely had the presence of mind to put her gown aside before throwing herself onto her brother for the second time that day. No need to crush the fabric, after all.
And since Thaddeas was the man of the family—at the moment—neither Heddy nor Grossmutter protested his plan even once.
Later in the afternoon, while the older women caught up on their family news, Thaddeas and Audra went walking to discuss home—her home. Hand in hand, they strolled to the two-room schoolhouse and then the modest center of town.
Audra adored her big brother; eleven years older than even Mariah, he was a protector and mentor. With his serious gaze, Thad somehow mirrored their father's intensity, though Thad was clean-shaven and had brown eyes. He also smiled more than their father did.
Though nowhere near as often as Jack Harwood.
She asked after the ranch and Thad's law practice, and was relieved to hear that both were doing well . Her parents and younger sisters were happy and healthy—“though they miss you,” Thad assured her, squeezing her hand. “We all miss you.” Even her older sisters, whose shocking choices in men had rocked the family for several years now, were happy in their new lives.
“Poor Papa.” She sighed—it was a standard comment whenever the subject of her older sisters'
romances came up.
“He'll survive,” said Thad dryly, then he slanted an amused glance back to Audra. "But I think he's relieved that, as long as you're teaching, you can't marry. Pa's had more than enough unpleasant surprises from you girls."
Unpleasant surprises like her going sweet on a gambler?