by Janette Oke
“I’ll come down.” Beth slid her feet from under the covers.
“Oh no,” Marnie said with a firm shake of her head. “Miss Molly said you was to stay right there in bed. We’re bringin’ what you need up here.”
It was rather easy to acquiesce. Beth doubted she would have been able to stand up anyway.
CHAPTER
18
MOLLY SUITABLY FUSSED OVER BETH in the days that followed, mumbling about taking more seriously the illness that had stolen away so many in the flu epidemic of 1918—still vivid in Molly’s memory—and chastising Beth for having gone out into the wintry air without even having the sense to put on a coat. Apparently David Noonan had noticed his teacher rushing outside during the service and had reported such to Molly.
Once she was finally allowed to leave her bedroom, Beth spent much of the remaining week bundled up in the kitchen, and reading where she could be close to the best light and the warmth of the stove. Molly and Marnie quietly mended and knitted and put final touches on small gifts for friends. With all the company men away—all, that is, except the one most recently arrived—the house was calm and rather quiet.
This new gentleman would be residing at Molly’s for only a short time, he said. His name was Nick Costa and he spoke Italian, though not as his native tongue. Beth learned during pleasant conversations with him over the dinner table that his British mother insisted he learn the language of his father’s family along with the English spoken in their Canadian home. He was well educated, well read, and professional. Beth liked him immediately and wondered how he would fit in with the other company men. He seemed the obvious odd man out. She wanted to ask what he was doing there while the mine was closed, but she held her tongue.
Nick was married, and his wife had borne him a son of whom he was very proud. The baby was just a little older than JW, Beth discovered. It was a delightful diversion in the evenings to hear him tell of his son’s amazing feats. Beth hung on every word, picturing little JW during the discourse. Unfortunately, Nick was rarely present except at suppertime. So the rest of her recovery was rather quiet.
Frank dropped in to see Beth several times, bringing some little token he had whittled or a puzzle he had crafted using only wire. He joined them in the kitchen, drawing a chair up to the small table to play chess with Beth or Teddy, lingering over each move contentedly because there were no other demands upon their time. On December the twenty-third, Jarrick surprised them with a visit, chatting amiably during the short break he was able to spare from his responsibilities. Beth brushed aside his concerned glances, assuring him that her health would soon be fully restored.
“Surprised to see you out in this weather,” Molly said to him as she came over with coffee and a plate of gingerbread cookies Marnie had made. “How are the roads?” she asked.
“I’ve got chains on the tires. If it doesn’t snow any more I may even make it home again,” joked Jarrick.
“You’re brave to give it a try. It ain’t often folks come out here over the winter roads.”
“Police work doesn’t pay much mind to seasons, I’m afraid.”
“Yer policin’ during Christmas? Investigatin’ something—”
“Saw a big moose just down the road a bit,” Jarrick broke in without letting her finish the question. “Biggest fella I’ve ever seen. It’s a wonder he’s managed to outdo the hunters for as many years as he has. Makes one rather admire him.”
“Might admire him more as an oven roast,” Molly said with a laugh.
The conversation turned easily to other things, and it seemed no time until Jarrick was gathering his hat and gloves and bidding farewell to them all.
Beth said a little prayer that he would make it back safely over the snowy roads.
Even with such visits and the family’s companionship, a heavier melancholy settled over Beth as they moved another day closer to Christmas. She couldn’t help but imagine her own home and the whirlwind of activities, the bountiful table, the cheerful décor, and heaps of presents—even Mother’s parties. Christmas was always festive and eventful back home, nothing like the quiet days she faced now.
What Beth perhaps missed the most was Christmas Eve, when they gathered before the blazing hearth and Father read the story of that first Christmas. Just closing her eyes and thinking of it brought back the sound of his voice, the scent of his aftershave . . . Beth missed him dreadfully.
Even recalling Julie’s unrestrained merriment and Margret’s composed conversation brought a lump to her throat. Baby JW would no doubt be taking tentative steps, getting into the wrapped presents if someone didn’t turn him in another direction . . . and enjoying his first Christmas without me.
For some reason she didn’t explain, Molly just at that moment decided to teach Beth to knit. She carried a basket of yarn scraps to the kitchen and set Beth to work on a scarf. Even in her current physical condition, Beth had to admit it helped to fill the time. But the variety of colors which Beth drew from the basket created quite a medley as the scarf began to take shape, and Beth wondered when she might ever wear such a thing. Then she thought with a little smile that perhaps the children would enjoy seeing her in it. And I made it myself, she would announce, no doubt to some giggles.
Carefully making her way down the stairs with the quilt bunched around her on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Beth looked through the windows at the snow falling. A white Christmas, she exulted. Then she heard muffled steps over the snow on the porch. She’d already heard Frank arrive, and he would be waiting in the kitchen with Molly and the children. Through the glass in the door she could see a bright red tunic. Whisking open the door, she expected to greet Jarrick and tease him for crashing the party. But Beth drew back in surprise when dark green eyes peered down at her from beneath a Stetson. She stood motionless.
“May I come in?” He grinned.
Beth blinked away her bewilderment. “Yes, of course—but, Edward, how did you get here?”
He stepped through the doorway, stamping new snow from his boots, removing his hat, and putting down a bag. The lock of hair over his forehead was conspicuously absent—a short, professional cut now gave him a more mature and rather handsome appearance.
“I was given Christmas Day off and decided that what I’d like most would be to finally pay you a visit.”
“You came for Christmas—all the way from up north?” Beth sounded as incredulous as she felt.
“Well, no.” He hesitated and shifted his gaze away. “I was not so far away as that. I’ve been working farther south for a period of time.” He lifted his gaze again to her quilt-wrapped figure and pale face. “Are you ill, Elizabeth?”
“No—that is, I have been. But I’m much better now.”
Molly and Frank appeared, moving toward the stranger at the front door. “Welcome,” Molly said, her hand stretched toward him. “Thought ya’d never git here. Glad the weather ain’t too bad for ya.”
“You knew he was coming?”
“Sure.” Molly was shaking hands with Edward. “Jack told us last Sunday. Jest seemed more fun ta let it be a Christmas su’prise. Put yer bag in the third door on the right upstairs,” she instructed him, “an’ join us in the kitchen.”
Beth watched in amazement as Edward disappeared up the stairs. She cast a glance down at her clothing—nightgown and house robe with a quilt over all. She wondered what her hair must look like . . . but she pushed the thought aside. There was no way of fixing anything now. She wilted onto a chair.
“Jack told me this Edward was practically kin.” Molly was looking carefully at Beth, clearly trying to make her own determination about this new man and what his presence meant.
“Well, I suppose that’s one way to describe it.” Then Beth lowered her voice and said, “Miss Molly, please, in the future if someone’s coming to visit me—particularly a man, would you—could you please let me know?”
Molly reached to push a strand of Beth’s hair into place. “You look jest fin
e, dearie.”
Beth frowned. Is Molly, like Mother, doing her own matchmaking?
Edward on a chair in Molly’s kitchen was like a swan trying to seem at home in a peat bog. His polite manners were a little too stiff, particularly across from Beth’s pale face and quilt-wrapped form. He managed, however, to convey deep sympathy for her.
“There is nothing trifling about the flu,” he was saying. “I’ve seen it put vigorous men on their backs for weeks. But I’m glad to hear you’ve been well cared for. Have you heard from your mother? No doubt she’d be quite worried about you.”
“I’ve already written to her about it, but, please—I’d rather you didn’t mention it to anyone who might tell her. That just makes it seem all the more serious. It’s just the flu. I’m nearly back to normal.”
Edward’s eyes crinkled in the teasing way Beth knew so well. “So you’re emancipated from your mother’s watchful eye. You certainly had to travel far from home to achieve that.”
Frank mercifully changed the subject. “Where is’a your posting, Mr. Montclair?”
“North in Athabasca. Though I’ll be in Lethbridge for the foreseeable future. Some of us were brought back for an additional assignment.”
It wasn’t so much the vagueness of his answer but the subtle change in his expression that drew Beth’s attention. Is there something Edward is omitting? But Beth chided herself, Of course, there is much he would not be able to tell us.
“And you enjoy the work?”
“Very much. It’s been taxing, to be sure, but there are frequent-enough moments when order has been brought to a community—it makes the rest of it worthwhile. But if I’ve learned anything in my job, it’s that the threats are closer than one would expect.”
“I’m sure that’sa true. I have seen crime and disorder drop as’a the law it moves closer.”
Just then Beth remembered the recovered compass and violin. She broke in, “Oh, Edward, I have wanted to thank you so much for finding my things—for sending them along. You can’t imagine what a relief—what a thrill—it was to see them again!” she rushed on.
He leaned closer, speaking in a quiet tone. “I wanted so much to set things right again, Elizabeth. It was vitally important for me to do so. I wanted to repair the damage I had caused. For things to be the same between us.”
Beth frowned. “It wasn’t your fault—not really. I already explained that.” She drew back a little. “But I know it took a great deal of effort to recover them, and I am very grateful.”
“It was my pleasure, I assure you.” There was an awkward silence.
Molly filled it with, “Frank, why don’t ya ask Beth’s friend here if he plays chess? I’ll bet the farm he does.”
Christmas Eve passed quietly, Beth observing Edward and wondering what might be behind his earnest words. She suspected now that there was more to his attempt to set things right than simply concern for an old friendship. What do I feel where Edward is concerned? Beth couldn’t sort out her emotions—at least not right then.
That evening Molly suggested that Edward read the Christmas story, and then they shared some fruit punch and special pastries. Molly eventually shooed Beth off to bed, leaving Edward in the kitchen with Frank and her.
Beth had no way of knowing their perceptions of Edward, but they would be viewing him without prior prejudices of station or reputation. And as she contemplated this, another thought rose. There is something different about Edward now—he has matured. Perhaps she should reconsider her long-held opinions.
Christmas morning dawned with Beth feeling better than she had for some time. She washed up and brushed her hair, hoping to present a much better appearance than she’d had the energy for over the past week. It was difficult to choose which dress to wear. The ones Mother had sent seemed overreaching for a day spent at home, while the working dresses seemed too plain. She chose the one she had restyled, hoping that it was somewhere in the middle of the spectrum.
“Merry Christmas, dearie,” Molly called as soon as Beth’s footsteps sounded in the kitchen, throwing a quick hug around her shoulders. “So glad yer here ta share the day with us this year.” Then she added, “You look real nice.”
“I’m glad to be here with you,” Beth answered sincerely. “How can I help?”
“No, no. I got it almost ready. You set yerself down and put yer feet up.”
Marnie and Teddy had dug in to their Christmas stockings, and Teddy was already sucking on a hard candy he’d found. But Marnie carefully tucked hers away for later. Her face glowed as she showed Beth the new wool socks Molly had made, along with ribbons for her hair.
Edward soon joined them in the kitchen for a delicious breakfast. They chatted amiably about his work, answering his questions about the town. Beth was astonished at how frequently he traveled, how he’d become acquainted with much of the province. In fact, he seemed to know their own region quite well—as if he had spent time in the area. If that is correct, why is this his first visit? she wondered idly.
Molly gave an unusually animated review of the Christmas programs. Beth and Frank looked at each other with some surprise and not a little discomfort at her enthusiastic compliments, but Edward seemed fittingly impressed.
They were seated together in the parlor for their gift exchange before Beth realized she had nothing for Edward. If I’d only known, I would have found something, she thought with dismay.
Teddy was in charge of distributing the packages that were around Molly’s little Christmas tree perched valiantly on its table, a few ornaments and tinsel hanging from it. He reached for a little box and handed it to Marnie, and she was thrilled at the small bottle of perfume she found inside. One by one, the gifts were unwrapped.
Beth had tucked her own contributions among the presents around the tree. A new pocketknife for Teddy and a book of poems she was sure Marnie would enjoy. For Molly, a set of ivory combs with little pearl beads across the top, and for Frank she had managed a pair of store-bought red wool mittens. Then she watched as Marnie opened the new dress which she and Molly had worked on together from the leftover material Beth had purchased in the fall. Teddy, who was somewhat less enthusiastic, opened a new shirt.
When Beth was presented with a small box, she smiled around the room, curious, since it had no name on it other than her own. She pulled off the wrapping and drew off the lid. Inside was a bright gold chain and a lovely dove-shaped pendant made from mother-of-pearl. Beth drew in a breath, shocked at such a lavish gift.
“I was thinking it was kind of a peace offering,” Edward said with some chagrin. “I hope you like it.”
Beth could feel her cheeks flush. What could she say? The gift was far more extravagant than any of the others—out of proportion, she felt, and unwarranted. She was sure it was not purchased on a Mountie’s salary. She thanked him politely, embarrassed to say anything further.
A small fuss rose across the room as Molly pressed Teddy toward the next package, one she was insisting be given next. “An’ this says, ‘To Edward from Beth,’” he announced.
Beth could not hide her shock and cast a confounded glance toward Molly, who shushed her with a finger to her lips.
Edward accepted the package and played up the suspense, turning it over and over, even shaking it—though it clearly was soft and some type of clothing. Finally tearing the paper away, the multicolored scarf—uneven rows and all—that Beth had labored over tumbled out. He held it up with a surprised grin as Beth covered her face with her hands.
Undaunted, Molly announced proudly, “Beth knitted it.”
Edward chuckled. “Yes, I see—I’m sure it’s her first, and I hope not her last. I’m honored to have it. I’ll set a new fashion trend in Athabasca.”
He wound the scarf around his neck and smiled around the room, his gaze at last resting on Beth. His words came slowly and carefully, as if there were no one else listening. “You have so many wonderful talents, Elizabeth. I’m convinced there is nothing you could not
accomplish if you try. I will cherish this gift as a tribute to what an amazing woman you are, and on frosty winter evenings I’ll find some way to tuck it under my tunic.”
For a moment Beth was spellbound. The green eyes gleamed with sincerity in a face distinctly more weathered and masculine than she remembered. His expression bore no resemblance to the mocking, irritating boy she had once known.
For the rest of the day, Beth avoided Edward’s gaze, confused by the stir of her sometimes-contradictory thoughts and feelings. She spoke cordially to him as dictated by her upbringing, but her muddled emotions couldn’t manage more interaction than was unavoidable. After supper he gathered his bag, expressed his gratitude, and turned to head back out into the frozen landscape.
“Thank you for coming, Edward,” she said politely before he exited Molly’s foyer. “Please try to take care of yourself—I shall pray for your safety.”
His eyes held a warm expression. “I’m grateful that you might remember me charitably in prayer.” And then he was gone.
Beth had already tucked the expensive necklace away in a drawer and tried not to dwell on her conflicted feelings regarding Edward’s visit. She stole sheepishly into the kitchen, taking up a dish towel to work her way through the stack of clean plates.
“A nice fella,” Molly commented in her forthright way. “Ya like him?”
A deep flush rose into Beth’s cheeks. “I am not enamored with him, if that’s what you mean.” Her answer sounded clipped and terse.
“Ya sure?” A chuckle sounded from Molly, and Beth felt it was just too much. She dropped the dish towel onto the counter and hurried from the room, up the stairs, and retreated to her bed.
She buried her face in her pillow, opposing thoughts churning her stomach into knots. She had in no way intended to offend Molly, had wished she’d given some kind of response. But her emotions were all tied up with memories regarding Edward, and it was all too complex for her to sort out right now.