The Fruitcake Challenge (Christmas Traditions Book 3)
Page 10
Chapter Ten
In for a penny, in for a silver dollar.
Although Tom fully expected Jo to return from town and scorn him, instead she acted as though she was right as rain. Watching her finish serving, he observed again that her attempts for him to be happy with her baking efforts weren’t nearly as desperate as before. A calm had settled over her. Her father, on the other hand, turned agitated and now made almost daily trips to Mackinaw City, sometimes not returning until the following night.
As he watched Sven inhaling a piece of a fruited Italian coffee cake, Tom had no desire to take even one bite. Truth be told, he was plum full up on fruitcake. He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize his own mother’s recipe if she baked it herself, he’d consumed so many variants.
Jo slid in next to him, bringing the scent of lilac water and the rum flavoring of the coffee cake. She smiled, and her peaceful expression touched his heart. She really seemed to have forgiven him for his ridiculous act of arrogance. Maybe they could start over.
He couldn’t forget the feel of her in his arms, as they’d danced.
“Tom, don’t worry about even trying this one tonight. We made it for Leonardo Zandi.” She waved at the new axe man, a handsome Italian. Was he the reason Jo practically glowed?
The cheeky fellow stood, kissed his fingertips, and then opened his arms toward Jo. She blushed and returned her attention to Tom.
He stabbed his fork into his pork roast, then slowly sliced himself a chunk and brought it to his lips.
Jo cocked her head in what in any other woman would be a coquettish manner. “I’m hoping you’ll help me plan the Christmas pageant tonight.”
He’d been considering taking the train home to Ohio for a week or so, at least until he figured out what was transpiring with his mother.
“We really need you, Tom.” Jo leaned in, her voice low, almost husky. The room suddenly seemed too small and too hot, but they were seated well away from the pot-bellied stove that heated the room, along with the stoves up front.
Two tiny hands suddenly covered his eyes. He returned his fork to his plate.
“We need you to play your fiddle and read some stories for our Christmas pageant.” Mandy’s stilted pronouncement sounded as though she’d been coached.
He pulled her fingers away. “Why should I?”
“’Cause Miss Jo wants you there. I think she loves you.” The little girl drew the “loves” out long and loud, resulting in the other lumberjacks hearing and laughing.
But instead of acting offended, Jo beamed beatifically. Could it be? Had she fallen for him as he had for her? He flexed his shoulders. Len Zandi wasn’t about to usurp his rights. The man was new. Maybe he didn’t know about the fruitcake challenge. Tom’s heart pounded with such strength he could hear it in his ears, over the cacophony of the cook shack’s noise. Would Zandi stand and offer for Jo?
Tom placed his arm around Jo as little Mandy ducked beneath, his arm now covering both hers and Jo’s shoulders. “What are you doing in here tonight, anyways, my star pupil?”
“Just wanted to make sure you got the message.”
“Oh, I’ve got it all right.” He hoped he did. He gazed into Jo’s eyes. “I’ll be here for Christmas.”
Jo’s shoulders slumped and she leaned her head back, stretching her neck. “I’m glad.”
She was happy about him staying. Warmth spread through his chest.
With a giggle, Mandy ducked back out from under his arm and skipped off between the rows of jacks.
He squeezed his sweetheart’s shoulder. “We got off to a rocky start, but I want to do right by you, Jo.”
She stiffened, but he left his arm around her, even when her brother gave him the evil eye from his spot.
“I have forgiven you for what you got started. And we’ve had a lot of fun.” Jo’s smile looked forced. “The men have enjoyed all the desserts. And it sure has distracted me from thinking about my Ma.”
When tears appeared in her eyes, he pulled out his clean monogrammed handkerchief and handed it to her.
They ate the rest of their dinner in companionable silence and then Tom helped them clean up, singing some Christmas carols with the ladies. Jo appeared more animated than ever. Happy. He loved seeing her enjoying the joy of the season. The future didn’t seem grim at all, if she were in it.
But could he support her? He had to know what kind of life he’d be offering her in the Upper Peninsula. She’d not wanted to remain in a lumber camp, but that was the only teaching offer he had—from her father.
Mr. Christy had him over a barrel.
“Goodnight.” Pearl waved goodbye as she and Frenchie left the building.
Just Jo and Tom remained, alone. Suddenly nervous, she held perfectly still as he wrapped her new fur-lined cape around her, a gift an Odawa woman she and mother had helped when her husband, a trapper, had died. The pretty woman remarried quickly and brought the gift and her new baby and husband by the camp right after she’d returned from town.
But was it the warmth of the fur that felt so comforting or the gentleness of Tom’s hands as he rearranged her hair inside of the hood?
“I’m glad you understand about my error and are willing to give me another chance, Jo.”
He took two steps closer and grasped her hands in his, sending a tingle up her arms. “There are some things I have to figure out for myself before I can make any plans that include a wife.”
She stifled the urge to snort in laughter. He’d be figuring out those things all by his lonesome because she had no intention of being there. As for plans—she had her own. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering why the bakery hadn’t responded to her letter. They were supposed to give her a definite date to start her position.
Still, she couldn’t help but look at his handsome face and wonder what it would have been like to look at him every day for the rest of their lives. Growing old together. But such was not to be.
“Don’t look so worried, Jo. I know God has a plan for both of us.”
His eyes, so large and luminous, drew her attention.
“Yes, He does.”
She shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him. She should be telling him all about her suspicions about his mother, so he could go see her.
“You seem so preoccupied tonight.” Tom ran two fingers alongside her jaw and she held her breath.
She slowly exhaled as he removed his hand from alongside her face, feeling suddenly sad at the loss of contact.
He leaned in toward her. “Jo?”
She had to keep him here—that had to be the reason she was rising up on her tiptoes as his head bent closer.
“Yes.” Closing her eyes, Jo waited for his kiss, her heart hammering in her chest.
Tom wrapped his arms around her and drew her against him. Her face brushed the heavy wool of his jacket. She drew in a breath. She shouldn’t lead him on. She didn’t…
His warm lips covered hers and the sweetness of the kiss made her cling to him. He groaned as he released her but then kissed her again, with more fervor than the first kiss, his mouth covering hers with firm pressure. Oh, if this kiss would never end. If only she could have this experience every day for the rest of her life. She leaned further into him.
Tom pulled away, and bent to lean his forehead against hers. “Jo, oh my sweet Josephine.”
A sudden ‘thwack’ of a branch blown into the exterior wall caused Jo to jump. Then they both laughed. He pulled her into his embrace and rested his chin on top of her head.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do, sweetheart, but promise me you’ll be patient with me.”
How could she promise that? She’d already accepted the job in St. Ignace. But he’d called her his sweetheart. Instead of saying anything, she tipped back her head and offered her lips.
He laughed. “Only one more. I don’t want to lose what control I have left.”
This kiss was gentle, like rose petals brushing her lips. They tingled and she
wanted more. But he kept his word and released her.
Tom turned her her toward the door. “Off we go, my angel.”
His angel. She was no angel. And soon, off she would be going—away from him, the camp, and her family.
“All aboard.” The railroad worker gestured Tom toward the dock, where the train awaited transportation across the straits.
They’d be pulled by steam tugboat across the wide expanse where Lakes Michigan and Lake Huron met. At least the brilliant sapphire water was fairly calm today.
As he moved forward, several nuns wearing habits covered by thick capes, accompanied him. The priest with the group smiled at Tom. “What brings you across the water, young man?”
“Going to the Upper Peninsula to check out a new lumber camp.”
“Plenty of those going up, that’s for sure.” The man’s small build would never have suited him as a shanty boy—unless perhaps he was a limber.
The nuns turned to him and nodded. They waited for the priest to join them before they boarded. The boat horn tooted loudly and the small group startled.
Behind Tom, he sensed someone watching him, but when he turned, he only saw a woman with a young boy, two large men dressed in black overcoats and beaver hats, and a woman bent slightly forward, covered in a shabby tan coat, a moth-eaten shawl wrapped over her head, and well-worn deerskin gloves covering her hands. Odd, the sensation that he knew her, but with her head bent down against the wind, he couldn’t tell if he’d run across the woman in town before.
What a strange sensation for Jo to board only a section of train that had been separated from its engine. The back section was loaded with Christmas goods ordered for residents of St. Ignace and parts further east in the Upper Peninsula. The car would be reattached to an engine once they arrived on the mainland. Jo kept her head down as she inched past Tom, who seemed engaged in conversation with several nuns. They laughed as she passed them to take her seat in the back.
What was he doing here on this same railroad train, being pulled on a barge across the straits? Pa had left that morning to visit Ma’s sister in Traverse City, promising to bring her mother’s fruitcake recipe back. Jo hadn’t had the heart to tell him it didn’t matter.
What if Tom had taken advantage of Pa’s absence to depart the camp, never to return? Her cheeks heated in anger. He’d promised to help with the Christmas show; the children had worked so hard, practicing all their favorite carols. She could already feel their disappointment.
It didn’t matter. She was leaving, too, and that would also upset them. Still, his behavior only reinforced that she lacked discernment in matters of the heart. She had allowed him to kiss her. And she wanted him to kiss her more. All the while knowing that he regretted making his challenge. She pulled his monogrammed handkerchief from her pocket and fingered the raised white silk thread forming a “J” on the soft linen cloth.
Regardless of anything Tom chose to do, she would be fine. God promised her in His Word. As the tugboat pulled away from the dock, pulling the barged train behind it, Jo hummed Christmas carols to herself, trying to distract herself from thinking what might happen if they were to sink into the icy water.
Ahead of her, Tom leaned his head toward the glass, apparently napping. How could he sleep while rocking along like this? She took the opportunity to move up several seats. With rapt attention, she gazed out at Mackinac Island, as they passed by. So many newcomers had settled there. And although she’d looked into a job on the island, most positions were seasonal.
After a while, Tom shook his head and sat up, then turned to look at the priest, across the aisle from him.
“Do you have the time?”
The clergyman pulled out a brass watch, secured with a chain to his pocket. “Almost ten.”
“We should be there soon, I hope.”
“Yes, we have a lunch to attend at St. Anne’s today. Where do you need to be?”
Tom shrugged. “I’m a teacher. I’m going to check on my school site.”
Acid filled Jo’s gut. He was a teacher already? Was he trained then? Why had he never said? Or was he lying like Arnault had? So he’d already secured his position and was, indeed leaving. She groaned. What if he was working in St. Ignace, right where she’d be? She’d never live down the humiliation if people discovered what had happened.
Keeping her head down, Jo prayed and rested her eyes for a while. When she looked up again, she spied the shoreline of St. Ignace, and the dark outline of the railroad dock, where the tugboat was headed with them.
“Are you married, son?” The priest’s voice carried back to her tingling ears.
“No, Father.” Was it her imagination or did Tom sound regretful?
Jo jumped when the tugboat sounded a greeting to another as it maneuvered the barge into the dock. She retrieved a mint lozenge from the tin in her reticule.
“Where’s your school situated?” One of the nuns asked Tom.
Popping the candy into her mouth, Jo savored its sweet spearmint flavor.
“About ten miles out of town—at the new Christy Camp.”
Jo almost gagged. She spit the lozenge out before she choked on it. Pa had already purchased yet one more camp for them to move to? He’d promised he’d tell her well in advance of any change. Just like he’d done with Ma, he’d probably not tell Jo until the week before they had to pack up and leave. So inconsiderate of others when he had his mind fixed on something.
But if Tom was going out to the camp, and he was going to teach, then he was in on it too. Yet another man seeking to control her. At least he might not be trying to escape her.
Men shouted from the docks as the barge was positioned to have the railroad car detached. The car rocked as the tug released it. Suddenly dizzy, Jo bent her head and remained seated, even though the others were gathering up their belongings to depart.
“Railroad dock, St. Ignace!” the conductor called out.
Jo waited for Tom to leave the car, nauseated more from her father’s secret than the rolling sensation from crossing the straits.
All she had to do now was get to the bakery and find out when her new life would start.
As Tom exited, the conductor pressed a piece of tobacco into his cheek. “Home now for me.”
“You live here?”
“For now, but once those new rail line run out to the lumber camps east of here I might try to get a little cabin closer to my son. He’s logging near the Tahquamenon River.”
“So the train will bring people out to the camps?”
“All those lines, whether for hauling logs or people, will soon crisscross the entire Upper Peninsula. Railroad towns were springing up right and left.”
“You don’t say.” Probably why Mr. Christy was anxious to move the camp.
Tom watched out of the corner of his eye, as the shabbily dressed passenger in the back remained seated. Why hadn’t that poor women disembarked?
The conductor followed his gaze. “Guess I’ll have to urge her to leave the train, eh?”
Tom walked quickly up the dock, catching up with the Catholic priest and nuns. “If I don’t see you again, I’d like to wish you a wonderful Christmas.”
The nuns smiled and the priest’s eyes sparkled. “You as well, young man. I have a feeling God has many blessings ahead for you.”
The comment warmed Tom’s heart yet something else tugged at him to try to help the lady from the back of the train. Ducking behind a large square column on the railroad dock platform supporting the overhang, Tom waited until the woman passed.
As she did, he glimpsed her profile. Jo. His heart stuck in his throat. Maybe her brothers had told the truth the other night—she was intending to leave the camps for good. Either that or she was there to check out the new camp, as Ox and Moose had already done, declaring it “full of the best hardwoods we’ve seen yet.” But surely her brothers would have mentioned that to him, because they knew where he was headed today and they said nothing about their sister.
The air on this side of the water seemed more stagnant. The buildings clustered near the main street were older and there was a stronger Chippewa influence than in Mackinaw City. Log cabin businesses were commonplace as were ancient-looking buildings hewn from stone. The people walking on the board sidewalk all greeted Jo, and then him, as he followed her. A friendly bunch of strangers. Bells jingled when doors were opened, and on the horses that pulled carriages down the sleet-covered street. When he passed a small cedar-sided church building, the strains of “O Holy Night” carried out.
Soon, he’d celebrate his first Christmas with Jo. He prayed it would be the first of many to come.
Jo hadn’t dressed properly to go into the bakery. For some crazy reason, today she’d wanted to wear Ma’s old clothes and smell the scent of her that remained in their fibers. She’d first check on the shop and then go change inside one of the large outhouses behind the businesses. She’d just hold her breath when she did so. She hesitated, by a fire pot full of burning wood - turning to coals, and warmed her hands. Then she continued in the frigid air that worked its way through her clothing with every step. Soon she was on LaMotte Street.
No shadow of a sign darkened the corner of the storefront windows as she neared the white building. Her breath hitched. But with several steps more she spied something hanging from the door. She exhaled in relief. With five quick strides she sidestepped the people on the boardwalk, smiling at each as she did so. She clutched her coat closed at her throat and tugged her scarf up over her chin, then came to an abrupt stop.
CLOSED, the placard proclaimed in dark red block letters. Jo lifted her skirts as she stepped over a puddle of slush on the steps that led to the establishment. No welcoming lights glowed inside. She leaned far to the left, glancing through the mullioned windows. Squinting to better see inside the dark interior, her eyes discerned nothing but an empty shop. No tables and chairs. No whitewashed counters that separated the customers from the bakery staff. The cast iron stoves sat cold, alone. Nothing left of her dream. She looked more closely at the sign. Beneath CLOSED was written “Until Further Notice.”