Log Cabin Christmas

by Margaret Brownley

  She wrapped her fingers around his, her breaths slowing to a steady rhythm until she finally rested.

  Chapter 7

  You attended West Point, but did you graduate?”

  Jed laughed at her. “Of course I graduated. It was my dream to be a soldier, and I wasn’t going to squander it.”

  “Why a soldier?” Cora picked up another handful of kindling, filling in larger cracks between the cabin logs.

  As Jed stirred his bucket of mud and straw, which he would use to fill the smaller spaces and seal the openings, his eyes shifted down, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. “My father wanted me to run the farm—”

  “In Maryland?”

  “Yes, but my great-grandfather fought with George Washington, and I grew up hearing stories of those battles. Those men at Valley Forge were my childhood heroes, so when I entered the academy my only regret was that I wouldn’t have a noble war to fight as they had.”

  Cora pressed another piece of wood into place, keeping her gaze on Jed’s face. “And now that you have a war?”

  Jed shook his head, his hand never stopping, lest the mud harden beyond use. “It’s not romantic, but it is noble to fight for what you believe in.”

  “What about the farm? What will your father do?”

  “Grant and Bess were going to farm it.” A painful expression seared through his eyes. “Now, I suppose he’ll give it to my nephew. I’m a lifelong soldier.” Suddenly a yawn cracked Jed’s jaw. Leaning against the rough timber of the outside of the cabin, his eyelids drooped.

  “Are you not sleeping well?” Cora asked as she pressed the last pieces into place. “You look terrible.”

  Jed grinned at her. “I look terrible? If you’re not careful, you’ll look worse.” He stirred the sloppy mess, moving as though he would pitch it at her.

  She ducked and screamed. “Don’t you dare!”

  Taking a menacing step toward her, he waved the stick of muck in her direction. “Oh, wouldn’t I? I’ll show you what terrible looks like!”

  She shrieked and ran from him, picking her skirts nearly up to her knees as she bolted around the side of the house. His breathing loud and close behind her, she knew she couldn’t outrun him. He had returned to almost full health and strength, so she hid around the corner of the cabin. When he rounded the building, still growling and waving the muddy stick, she jumped out and screamed.

  He plunged to his backside in an instant, his bucket flying and covering him in the sticky daubing. Cora fell to her knees beside him, laughing harder than she could ever remember.

  With his forearm Jed swiped at the black streaks that covered his forehead. “This is awful.” His face remained stoic, but the lilt in his voice gave away his good humor.

  “Just don’t waste any of it,” Cora managed between fits of laughter. “You still have to fill in the cracks between the kindling.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” he grumbled, his hand shooting out to wipe a black stripe down her cheek, his smile suddenly matching her own. “Now we look alike.”

  She grimaced as she poked the mark on her face and then inspected her finger, her eyes squinting and nose wrinkling at the dark coating. “I suppose I deserved that.” He nodded mutely before they both broke out in laughter again.

  When her stomach hurt too much to continue, Cora pushed herself up, taking in the sticky mess before her. “Do you think you can salvage any of that and finish fixing the wall?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Then clean up. It’s almost Christmas, and we still don’t have a tree.” She looked off to the eastern sun, her lips pulling into a straight line. “My mother always had a tree. She came over from England and said the Royal family had a tree every year. When I was young, she read an article about them putting decorations on their trees, so we’ve been doing that almost my whole life.”

  “What else did you do to celebrate Christmas with your parents?”

  Her gaze turned wistful, still not turning back to him. “My mother had a beautiful voice, so she often sang Christmas songs as we baked sweet breads.”

  “What did you sing?”

  “Oh, anything that came to mind. But ‘Joy to the World!’ was her favorite, and we would sing it over and over.” Cora bit her lip, her smile growing. “Mama and I would spend weeks baking on her brand-new step-top stove. No matter how cold the outdoors, we were warm as fresh pie in front of that fire. And oh, the pies we made!” Turning back to Jed, she didn’t try to hide her pleasure at the memories flowing forth. “When the pies were done my father always tried to steal a bite of the peach, but it wasn’t for him. Mama bundled me up in a cloak that covered me to my toes and wrapped scarves around my head. And then wecarried baskets full of sweets to our neighbors, stopping at each house on our street to wish them a happy Christmas.” She swallowed hard. “I do miss them sometimes.”

  Jed’s deep, brown gaze turned soft, his eyes never wavering from hers. “What happened to your parents?”

  Cora shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it right now. She only wanted to think on the happy memories, the times of laughter and joy.

  Jed’s hand reached for hers, familiar like she’d dreamed of it fitting so perfectly into his own. When he squeezed gently, she sighed. “They died of yellow fever when I was twelve, so my grandparents took me in.” Jed pressed her hand again and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could respond. “It’s not as painful now as it was once. I just wish I wasn’t such a burden on Papa.”

  “A burden? But you take care of this whole house.”

  She waved off the flattery. “He worries about me.” She pursed her lips and looked over Jed’s shoulder. “He doesn’t say that, but I know it’s true. He worries about what will happen when he’s gone. Who will take care of me?”

  Jed squared his shoulders and spoke with a boldness unusual even for him. “Did you never have a beau? There must have been men who wanted to marry you.”

  Heat threatened to burn her cheeks again, but she forced herself to respond to his question. “I was barely sixteen when the young men at church in town began leaving to fight.” She could offer him only half of a smile. It wasn’t as though she had never wanted to marry. It simply wasn’t an option now. The man that she could love and respect would be fighting until the war ended. Just like Jed, who would soon be returning to Washington.

  And if she loved him, she’d become one of those women with a broken heart. One of the ones left behind. One who might never know the fate of her beloved. That was a worry she could never manage, one she could not carry on her own.

  Pain filled her stomach, but she forced a happy expression and spun away. “Get yourself cleaned up. We have a tree to find.”

  By the time Jed washed his hair with the thick soap Horace had loaned him, changed his clothes, and caught up with Cora, who was stuffing a burlap bag into the bottom of her sewing basket, all trace of her sadness had vanished. She’d tried to cover it at the time, but he knew he’d upset her by asking about a beau. He’d just been unable to stop the question from rolling out, even if he didn’t want to admit why it mattered.

  “Are you ready?” she asked. He nodded, his stomach rolling at the bright smile she offered. “Good. Get the ax. We have quite a trip to make before it gets dark.”

  “Why do we have to go so far?”

  She laughed at him over her shoulder as she trotted away from the river headed west. “There aren’t many fir trees in this area, so Papa planted a small grove of them, but he didn’t want them to be too close to the river. He said it was bad for them to be in ground that is too wet.”

  They trudged through the groves of sycamore and towering oak trees, both shivering with each step, despite the sun high in the sky.

  “Are we almost there?”

  Cora didn’t bother answering his question. She simply led the way between two trees that had blocked the view of a cluster of twelve or fifteen small firs, their tops about even with his
shoulder. Jed squinted at them, not sure if his eyes played tricks as to their color. “Are they … that is, they look blue.”

  She nodded enthusiastically, as she ran up to one on the right side. “They are. They’re called concolors and appear to be both blue and green. And just wait until you cut it down.”

  Jed did as he was told, swinging the ax at the base of the young tree until it split and toppled to its side. As he leaned over it, he caught the scent to which he knew Cora had been referring. “It smells like oranges.”

  “I know.” She laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  He agreed and joined in her Christmastime merriment as he hooked his arm around a branch to drag it back home. As Cora prattled away about the corn they could pop and string around their beautiful tree, Jed’s mind continued drifting to what would take place later that night. Long after the popcorn was wound around the tree, he would sit on the floor next to her and hold her hand until morning came.

  But he couldn’t be there for her forever. After all, Christmas was a week away, and then he would leave. He had to go back to his post in Washington, but he didn’t want to leave her alone with her nightmares.

  Just as he started to speak, his heart heavy with her internal agony, large flakes of snow began to drop before their eyes. Cora held out her mittened hand as though she could catch the white flecks before they melted. “Don’t you just love snow? It feels like it washes away everything wrong with this world. Like it could cover every ugly thing.”

  Jed stepped toward her, putting his hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t turn toward him. “What is it that you want to be covered?”

  She shook her head, hunching her shoulders away from his touch. “I saw a lot of things that I can’t seem to forget.”

  “Is that what you dream about at night?”

  She whirled toward him, her face a mask of vulnerability and pain. “How did you know?”

  “I hear you sometimes.” He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat telling him not to tell her the whole truth, took a breath, and pushed forward. “And I hold your hand while you’re sleeping.”

  Her knitted mitten covered her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked twice but couldn’t seem to stop the quivering of her chin. “I’m mortified,” she cried as she turned and ran.

  Thankful he had the strength to catch her, Jed dropped the tree and chased her several steps, finally wrapping his hand around her wrist just firmly enough to stop her. “Please, don’t be ashamed. Tell me what it is you dream that makes you cry so hard.”

  She shook her head, her gaze on his hand, still clinging to hers. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?” He tucked a snow-flecked strand of her hair behind her ear, leaving his hand on her cheek and wishing that he could protect her from all the awful things of the world. “Have you forgotten that I’ve been in this war for four years? I’ve seen terrible things, too.”

  Her chin rose until she looked into his face, if not quite into his eyes, tear tracks still marring her apple cheeks. “There were so many men. The uninjured soldiers kept bringing the wounded into the house until they filled every room. I brought them water and blankets and passed out supplies. And I was fine. The blood didn’t bother me until they brought in Danny Pa–car.” Her voice hiccupped on the last word, and Jed did the only thing he could. He pulled her into his embrace, tucking her head under his chin. She nuzzled into the shoulder of his wooly coat.

  “What happened to Danny?”

  She hiccupped again, her shoulders shaking under his hands. “His arm was gone.”

  Jed smoothed her hair with one hand while rubbing circles on her back with the other, his cheek resting on top of her head. “Was he the only one with a missing limb?”

  “Nooo … but he was the youngest. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen.” The damp spot on his coat swelled as she sniffed softly. “When I was wiping the dirt off his face, it felt like a brick in my stomach. He was someone’s son. They all were. Even the ones being buried behind the house were someone’s family.”

  “Oh, honey,” he murmured into her ear. “I am sorry.”

  Her arms slipped around his waist until she held him as tight as he hugged her. “After that, every drop of blood was another mom or wife or daughter who would never see the man she loved again. I couldn’t stop thinking about those faces until it made me physically ill.”

  “And now? Is that what you see when you dream?”

  She nodded into his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against his arm.

  “I am sorry that you’ve seen such terrible things.” Resting his ear atop her head, he inhaled the lavender and rosemary scent of her hair. “Do you know that in the Good Book it says to cast all your care upon Him; for He careth for you?”

  “Ye–es.”

  “Do you think you could try to do that? Could you give these memories and nightmares to God?”

  Her breath caught loudly as she drew in a breath. “I’m not sure.”

  He didn’t have easy answers, so he whispered a prayer over her. “Heavenly Father, please give Cora peace. Help her to cast these terrible memories upon You. Take them far from her mind. And please give comfort to the families of those men who won’t be returning home. We pray in Your name. Amen.”

  Long after his prayer ended, they stood among the trees holding each other as snow covered the ground all around them. Finally, when her grip on him loosened, she leaned back just far enough to look into his face. “Thank you, Captain.”

  He meant to say that he was happy to help. He meant to offer another gentle word of comfort. He meant to give her a soft hug and then let go.

  He did none of those things.

  Instead he took one look into her sapphire eyes and leaned down until there was just a breath between their lips. He waited for a moment, giving her ample opportunity to pull away.

  She didn’t.

  When their lips finally met, Jed’s heart pounded so hard that he was certain she could feel it. She tasted like the sweet peach preserves they’d eaten together at lunch—a meal he wanted to share with her for the rest of his life.

  The unexpected thought crashed through him, turning his stomach to stone. He’d fallen in love with the woman in his arms, but he could not take her home with him.

  Chapter 8

  Cora’s hands moved automatically, drawing the needle and thread through the thick blue wool. Each stitch blended with the rest of the frock, but she didn’t pay attention. Her ears stayed attuned to the sound of Jed’s ax breaking apart the last of their renewed firewood supply. When the consistent rhythm stopped, she quickly bundled her project into a sack and tucked it into her sewing box.

  A voice in her head asked why she even bothered. She was in no danger of Jed returning to the house as long as Papa was still in the cellar. After all, Jed had made certain that they hadn’t spent any time alone since their kiss.

  Her stomach danced at just the memory of the strength in his arms and the compassion in his voice as he’d spoken that prayer over her. Being in his arms had been everything she dreamed of, sharing her first kiss with the man she loved. But her love wasn’t enough to make him stay, and a band around her heart constricted with that certainty.

  She’d fallen in love with a man and become her own worst nightmare, the woman left behind to wonder.

  When the front door opened, she wiped a wayward tear from her cheek, hunching over her knitting.

  “Where’s Jed?” Papa asked as he set down the items he’d brought up from storage.

  “I suppose where he usually is lately.” Her tone sharper than she meant, she quickly offered a softer follow up. “I’m sure he’s whittling somewhere by himself. He’s been doing that a lot.”

  Papa walked over to the fireplace, clapping and rubbing his hands in front of the flames. “Is everything all right between you two? I haven’t seen you spending much time together lately.”

  “I’m sure everything is fine.” That same voice i
n her head gnawed on those words.

  If that’s really the truth, then why is your heart breaking?

  Papa shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers so hard that his suspenders pulled taut over his white shirt, a sure-tell sign that he was about to broach a subject with which he was uncomfortable. “Your dreams seem to be getting better.”

  Cora glanced into his dear, weatherworn face. “They are.”

  “Did something happen to help?”

  Her eyes drifted to the corner of the room, filled almost entirely by the tree now adorned with strings of popcorn and bright-red bows made of ribbon, gifts from her mother. “I suppose talking with Jed helped.”

  One of Papa’s furry eyebrows lifted in an arch. “When did you talk with him?”

  “A few days ago.”

  Papa nodded in a way that indicated he understood a lot more than he let on. “What did he say?”

  Eyes still on her sewing, she said, “I’d rather not speak of it right now.”

  Papa knelt by her chair, resting both of his hands on her arm. “Why won’t you let me in? Why won’t you tell me what burden it is that you carry?”

  Tears blurred her vision. “I can’t.”

  Christmas morning dawned bright, the sun sparkling off the thin layer of fresh snow blanketing the front yard. Cora stood by the window, enjoying the simple beauty for nearly thirty minutes, her mind recounting the promise she’d forced Jed to make. He’d said he would stay until Christmas, and she knew he would not stay even a moment more. This would be their last day together.

  Even if he had been distant since their kiss, she would miss his presence in their little home. His voice sometimes filled the whole room, and his laugh forced her to join in.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  She turned into Papa’s embrace, holding him close. “You, too.”

  Boots thudded against the outside door frame, and Jed stepped into the room, his cheeks rosy from the cool morning. “The chores are done,” he announced.