SNOW KISSED CHRISTMAS: Sweet Historical Romance Novella--Short Read

by Bobby Hutchinson

  Thomas opened his mouth to ask if he could go along, but closed it fast when Peter appeared from the living room, tall and fat, red faced, his large head covered in a thick thatch of curly brown hair. He had a booming laugh, and he bent over Thomas, ruffling his hair and filling the boy’s pockets with handfuls of hard brown candy he dug out of his own pant’s pocket. “Come with me, young man, I’ve got a story to tell you about trains.” He led Thomas away, leaving Sophie with the dreaded hot milk, but Mama went bustling after Peter with the other glass in hand. “His milk, Petya. The boy needs his milk.”

  From her reticule, Anna dug out the gifts she’d made and took them into the living room to place under the tree. Two aprons for Lilya, fancy hemmed handkerchiefs for Steve and Peter.

  Sophie finished her milk with a tiny shudder. “Please, Mama Mazaruk, may I look at the books?”

  The Mazaruks had a fully illustrated set of Encyclopedia Britannica on shelves just inside the living room. Sophie, who’d learned to read even before she started school, was enthralled with such riches. She curled up on the horsehide sofa and reverently opened the first heavy volume.

  Back in the kitchen, Anna helped Lilya with the meal preparation, mashing potatoes with cream and homemade butter, scooping the dressing from the monstrous turkey into a bowl.

  “Lilya, there’s enough food here for an army.”

  Lilya looked around, startled, eyebrows raised, as though she hadn’t realized how much there really was. Then she lifted her hands heavenward, palms up. “I start, I can not stop,” she declared. She reached out and placed a gentle, chapped hand on Anna’s belly. “The dorogaya, the little one to come, she makes you still sick when you eat?”

  Anna had had attacks of nausea after every meal for the first five months. Lilya had given her an herbal concoction that helped.

  “Not any more, thank goodness. That medicine you made me helped a lot, and now I’m just hungry all the time.”

  Lilya smiled and nodded. “This is good, this is very good. You will enjoy your dinner.” She took a small plate and loaded on little dumplings, added sour cream and butter, and handed it to Anna with a fork. “Sit, eat now, eat. Still another few minutes before dinner, better you don’t go hungry.”

  “These are delicious. You must teach Sophie and I how to make them.”

  Lilya’s face lit up. “This I would like very much. My mama, she teach me, I teach my Mary.” The ever-present tears came and she absently wiped them away with her thumbs. “Now I will show you and Sophia, together we will make pelmeni. Also golubtsi, we will make.” She pointed to the pan of cabbage rolls smothered in rich red sauce. “Always, the mama teaches her daughters to make these, the way her own babushka—how you say, grandmother?” At Anna’s nod, Lilya went on, “the way her grandmother made.” Lilya tapped her chest. “Woman to woman to woman, secret recipes.”

  “Did you know your grandma, Lilya?” Anna felt again the deep ache in her heart, the loss of her own mother. She’d never met her grandmother. Maria had come as a young bride to Canada, leaving her family behind in Sweden. She’d never seen any of them again.

  Lilya nodded her head. “My babushka, yes, she lives with us in same house, and also prababushka, her mother. Great-grandmother, yes? All together we live. In Russia, all the family shares one house.”

  “Did you and Steve marry before you came to Canada? Or did you meet him here?” Lilya had once shown Anna a daguerreotype of them the day they married. Lilya was breathtakingly beautiful, delicate and tiny, swathed in what seemed miles of white lace, Steve so young, serious and proud, his high collar meeting his chin.

  “Stevie, he is son of my father’s friend. From when I am little, it was planned we would marry.”

  An arranged marriage, then. And it had lasted all these years. She wanted to ask Lilya if she’d loved Steve when they married, but Anna felt it would be rude. Lilya surprised her, though.

  “I fight with my father, there is another boy, Nikolai, I love him, I want to marry. But my father will not allow it. Stevie is son of a rich man, Nikolai is poor. Peasant, like us.” Lilya shrugged. “Father, he is right. Stevie is good man, good husband to me. When my Mary goes, Stevie, he take care of me. I am—“ with her forefinger, she made a circular motion by her head. “Many men, they would put me in crazy house, but Stevie stay with me, make me eat, make get out of bed, make me dress myself.”

  Anna pressed her hand against her belly and shuddered, unable to imagine the full horror of losing a beloved child.

  “And you, Annushka? How you come to marry your William?” Lilya was holding a brown, fragrant loaf of fresh bread against her chest, expertly slicing it with a long knife. Anna had seen her do this before, marveling always that she didn’t hurt herself.

  “Mama and I were living in a boarding house in Vancouver, mama was cooking and housekeeping for the owners, I was working at the post office. William had just arrived from Scotland, he stayed for a month. And at the end of the month, we got married.” She’d fallen like a stone the first moment he appeared at the breakfast table. He had a smile she wanted to tuck in her apron pocket and keep forever. He had eyes that seemed to be ten colors at once, grey and green ringed with gold, drops of blue, shades of brown—and his accent. From the first word, she’d fallen for his Scot’s accent, the way he called her bonny lassie.

  “He heard about the coal mines, he’d worked as a miner in Scotland. So right after we were married, we got on a train and came to Michel and he got a job working underground.”

  She’d looked out the window of the train that early spring day and seen the slag piles, the miner’s dismal cottages, the coal dust blowing sheets of grime over the narrow valley. The huge, high Rocky Mountains seemed to overpower the town, looming on either side, and she’d felt like weeping at the thought of living in such a remote, dirty place.

  But William had money saved, and he bought their acre of land outside of town, where there were green fields and dandelions and pine trees and no coal dust. Together, they’d built the house, living in a tent that first summer while they desperately scrounged lumber from an old sawmill. William worked his ten hours at the mine and came home to hammer nails and measure planks. They’d had one room that first winter, and then two by the following fall. Now, there were two bedrooms, a kitchen, the little room off the kitchen he’d added for Maria, and a large living room. They’d spent all of William’s savings on the house, and now there was no work and no money. The little worm of worry that always seemed to lodge in Anna’s chest wiggled itself to life again.

  Steve and William came in just then, shaking the snow off on the rug.

  “Good thing Father Christmas, he has big sleigh,” Steve bellowed. “The snow, she is coming down like feathers from a goose down mattress. And we are hungry like bears, Mama.”

  Lilya had been bustling back and forth to the living room with bowls and platters, where a long oak table covered in a cream lace cloth was set with beautiful red and green dinnerware and heavy silver cutlery. Along the middle was a row of gold candlesticks with tall white tapers ready to light.

  “Come, come, we eat now,” she ordered, shooing the men and Anna to the table. “Petya,” she hollered. “Bring my Thomas and come eat.”

  Peter carried Thomas in on his shoulders, swooping the boy down into the chair Lilya indicated, sitting down beside him, tucking the snowy linen napkin into the top of his own shirt, under his double chin, and then reaching over and doing the same for Thomas.

  When everyone was seated and the candles were lit, Steve cleared his throat and everyone joined hands and bowed their heads while he said the grace. “The poor shall eat and be satisfied, and those who seek the Lord shall praise Him; their hearts shall live forever! Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. O Christ God, bless the food and drink of Thy servants, for Thou art holy, always, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.” And then, before anyone could open their eyes, he added, “A
nd please bless Father Christmas and his deer, and guide them so they find their way tonight to the house of the Zaichiks.”

  Everyone said amen again, and then the food began to make its rounds. The feast began with beet soup, then the little cabbage rolls, eaten with sour cream. There were mashed potatoes, buttery turnips, coleslaw, pickled gherkins, turkey dressing, cranberry sauce, baskets of bread and rolls. And the huge turkey itself, golden brown and glistening. Steve got to his feet to carve, putting the fat drumsticks on the children’s plates.

  Anna was soon too full. She couldn’t eat much at a time, the baby seemed to take up so much room. She looked around the table. Everyone’s face was bathed golden by the candlelight, and the gentle glow was reflected back from the silver bells on the Christmas tree.

  Lilya was up and down constantly, refilling water glasses, putting coffee on to perk, sliding pies into the oven to warm.

  Anna realized she’d never seen the other woman truly relax, or sit longer than a few minutes. Anna knew about that, the need to keep moving. After Maria died she kept herself busy every moment of every day. She was afraid that if she stopped, she’d just lie down and start to weep and never get up again.

  Steve talked about a new machine he was buying for the dairy, and Peter cut up Thomas’s food for him and whispered something in the boy’s ear that made them both laugh. Sophie looked over and smiled at her mother. She had her father’s changeable eyes, and for an instant, Anna could see what a heart wrenchingly beautiful woman her daughter would become.

  Beneath the sounds of voices, Anna could suddenly hear the wind picking up. Snow was blowing against the heavily curtained windows. Was a storm brewing? Winds could sweep down the narrow valley, carrying torrents of snow with them, sudden blizzards so fierce it was dangerous to step a foot away from the house lest you lose your way.

  All of a sudden, Anna was anxious. They needed to be able to get home, she and William and the children. It was Christmas Eve, and however sparse the gifts, Santa had to come. But they couldn’t just get up and leave now, before dinner was even over. All through the serving of the lavish desserts, pumpkin pie, apple cake, buns filled with cottage cheese and jam which Lilya called vatrushka, and succulent slices of gingerbread, Anna grew more and more concerned.

  Steve also heard the wind and went to look out the back door. He came back shaking his head. “Blizzard out there, can’t see even to the barn. William, Anna, you and the Zaichiks will stay here with us tonight.” He walked over and tousled Thomas’s dark hair. “Father Christmas, he will have to come here, ya?”

  Anna saw the horrified expression on her son’s face. He looked over at his father. “But we can go home still, can’t we, dada? We need to go home, so Santa will find us.”

  William had also gone to the door and checked. He shook his head. “Nay, we cann’ae, laddie. We’d no make it even to the hill, it’s too risky. T’is a blizzard out there and no mistake.””

  “But how will Santa know we’re here?” Thomas’s voice quavered, and Anna knew he was on the verge of tears. She felt her own eyes well up in sympathy.

  It was Sophie who calmed her brother. “Santa will leave our things under our tree at home, and we’ll find them when we go home. We don’t have to be in our own house for Santa to come, do we, Mummy?”

  “No, of course not,” Anna assured her. “He knows where you live. And the storm will likely be over by morning, but even if its not, the gifts will be there waiting for you both.” She’d send William on ahead, to make sure.

  Thomas nodded, still doubtful, but comforted.

  After that, there was the bustle of clearing the table, washing and drying the dishes. Sophie helped the women in the kitchen, and Peter started a game with Thomas that involved crawling around on the living room carpet, in and around the furniture.

  “Lilya,” Anna said, bent over the sink, scrubbing a stubborn pot, “I’m so sorry for the extra work, all of us having to stay.”

  “Nyet!” The word was explosive, and Anna looked up, surprised. Lilya grabbed her arm and pulled her into a huge hug, ignoring the soapsuds clinging to Anna’s hands.

  “Nyet, no, never say sorry for such a gift.” Lilya’s eyes were wet again, but this time it wasn’t sorrow. “To have you with us on this special night, such a gift for Stevie and me.” She released Anna and bustled around, putting wood on the stove, filling the big enamel coffee pot with water and grounds. “We will now have cookies and coffee and something to warm us. I will show you where you will all sleep, we will have big breakfast in the morning.”

  She was radiating excitement and pleasure, and Anna realized that she truly meant it, that having them there was some kind of gift for Lilya. Anna still felt sorry they couldn’t get home, but Lilya made her feel so welcome she relaxed some.

  When the kitchen was tidy and the coffee was perked, they joined the men in the living room. Steve and William had taken the extra leaves out of the dining table, and now it was round and small, sitting off to one side. Lilya served coffee and round spicy cookies. Steve poured vodka into tiny glasses for the men. There was huckleberry juice for Thomas and Sophie.

  “Will ye no dance for us, sister?” William pulled his mouth organ from his suit pocket. He began to play Golden Slippers, and Sophie shucked off her shoes and danced, hair flying, arms over her head. She had a natural rhythm, and a grace and style that took Anna’s breath away.

  Peter slipped away and re-appeared with a violin, which he tucked under his chin and played with amazing flair. He obviously had talent. The music drowned out the sound of the howling wind, and Thomas joined his sister dancing, making up in energy what he lacked in elegance.

  Anna and Lilya clapped, and William and Peter went from one song to another, Strike Up The Band, A Bird In A Gilded Cage, and then, by silent mutual consent, they played Deck The Hall and God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, then Hark The Herald Angels Sing.

  The dancing was over. Thomas was yawning, and Sophie’s eyes looked heavy. Anna took them out to the bathroom, where Steve had stoked the small stove so it was warm and there was hot water. They used the toilet and then Anna washed their faces and hands.

  “Come,” Lilya said when they came back in, taking a lamp and leading the way to a bedroom down a long hallway. “My Mary’s room,” she said, smoothing out the patchwork quilt. Together, she and Anna undressed the children, down to their long underwear. Sophie wrapped Mormor’s shawl around her. Lilya turned back the quilt and sheet. “In, in, Zaychiks, before your toes freeze,” she urged, and Thomas and Sophie climbed in. It was a featherbed, and they sank down as if they were making angels in a deep snowdrift.

  Anna and Lilya listened while they said their prayers, their sweet child’s voices mingling.

  Now I lay me down to sleep,

  I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

  Thy angels watch me through the night,

  And keep me safe till morning's light

  And Thomas, eyes still tightly closed, added, “And please let Santa know where we are.”

  “I told you, Santa will leave our gifts at home for us,” Sophie said in a weary, exasperated tone.

  “He’ll come here,” Thomas insisted. “You’ll see.” He curled towards his sister and took her hand, and was already asleep as Anna, and then Lilya, bent over and kissed them each goodnight, tucking the quilt close around them. The wind howled and the snow blew icy crystals outside the frosted window, but inside it was warm. The sound of the violin floated into the room, sweet and sad. Anna and Lilya waited, and in a few moments, Sophie, too, was sleeping, and the women crept out, leaving the door ajar.

  In the living room, Peter and William softly played Silent Night, and then all three of the men dressed in their outdoor clothing and went to do the last of the chores and settle the animals for the night. Steve took a long, coiled rope with him to tie to the kitchen door and then to the barn, so they wouldn’t get lost in the blinding storm. When they stomped back in a half hour later, all three were gas
ping for breath, their faces scarlet from the stinging, blowing snow.

  Anna felt utterly exhausted, her legs aching from the weight of the child in her belly. It was a relief to crawl into the soft featherbed in Peter’s room. He was already snoring on the horsehair sofa when Lilya led Anna and William to his bedroom.

  “We shouldn’t be taking Peter’s bed,” Anna said, but Lilya waved a hand in dismissal. “My Petya, always he falls asleep on the sofa, he drinks too much of the vodka.”

  When she was in the bed, snuggled in her chemise beside William, Anna whispered to him what Thomas had said, about Santa finding them tonight.

  “He’s a wee dreamer, our Thomas,” William yawned, holding her close, spoon fashion. “He’ll be let down, but he’s a braw lad, he’ll get o’wer it.” He yawned again. “Steve has asked will I work wi’ him in the dairy, on the days the mines are slack.”

  Anna waited several heartbeats. “And what did you tell him?” She braced herself for the usual vehement, I can support me own family, I will’nae take charity.

  Instead, William’s quiet voice was thoughtful. “He spoke tae me about Peter, Steve’s that worried about the lad. He’s too fond of the drink, is our Peter, and he likes to gamble, and now there’s a lass who claims he’s the father of her bairn, and Peter will no marry her. And then there’s Lilya, Steve is near his wit’s end, there are days her mind is gone wi’ the fairies, and she believes Mary still is here. Steve says it’s our two wee ‘uns that help her, she’s that fond of our Thomas and Sophie. They take her out of herself, Steve claims.” His strong arms moved her still closer to his warm body, cradling her, his big, rough hand on the restless, heaving mound of her belly. “A man gets to believin’ he’s the only one around wi’ troubles, Anna. So I said I’d work wi’ him, and grateful I am fer the offer.”

  Anna sighed, long and heartfelt. All she said was, “Good. I’m really glad, William.” It would make such a difference. It was not so small a miracle, not just the job and the money, but William’s change of heart. She sent up a silent, fervent thank you. William’s large hand seemed to quiet the baby in her womb, and sleep stole over her, deep and peaceful.