Caleb decided to try his luck at rocking Betsy to sleep while Ben got out his train and stacked some wooden blocks in it for freight.
Abby’s quest for gifts started Caleb thinking about Christmas presents of his own. Though he’d picked up a trinket for Emily each year, there had been no thought put into it since Mary always told him what Emily wanted. He had no clue what Abby might like, and he’d never bought anything for a child before. A fresh dousing of reality rushed through him. There was more to this husband and parenting thing than he’d ever imagined—if you wanted to do it right.
That realization made him feeling a little sorry for himself. Laura slept in the pen William built and Ben was playing with the train his father had crafted. As Caleb had told Abby, he was no good with woodworking. He couldn’t make a rocking horse for Laura or Betsy, or fashion a dollhouse when they grew older.
Wearing a brooding expression, he was watching Ben stack the blocks in the train cars when he recalled the day he’d “borrowed” his chessmen to haul around. Sudden inspiration struck. Toy soldiers! He could buy Ben some toy soldiers to play with. And maybe a book about trapping and tanning hides. Betsy was so little that a dress from the mercantile would suffice, and Laura would likely be tickled with a rag doll of some sort. Surely Mary would have something in stock for everyone.
But what about Abby? Other than books, he didn’t know what she liked. Did she knit? Crochet? What? All he’d seen her do since she’d lived under his roof was cook and clean and wash clothes and take care of little ones.
A now-familiar rush of guilt swept through him. As much as it galled him to admit it, Abby was the one doing most of the giving around the Gentry household. He hadn’t meant it to be that way, but it was, which just proved that he was no better at the husband thing than he was the father thing.
She needed something special, something just for her—but what? He had no idea what kind of clothes she liked, and had no one to ask. He doubted Mary knew anything about her likes and dislikes. Maybe Rachel...
Suddenly, he remembered her wistfully mention how nice it would be to have a slipper-shaped bathtub to relax in after a long day. Though he already owned the biggest oval-shaped trough the mercantile carried, he knew first hand that it was not long enough to stretch out in. Maybe she’d like a new tub. He thought he’d seen one at the mercantile a while back. Maybe he’d run the idea past Mary the next time he went to town.
Feeling pleased with himself, he looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms. Moving slowly, to keep from waking her, he rose and put her in her cradle, covering her with a small colorful quilt. Feeling sleepy himself, he settled into a corner of the sofa and stared at the mesmerizing dance of the flames. Betsy gave a soft snuffle, and the muffled whistling wind sent some lingering leaves clattering against the house. The crackling, hissing and pop of the burning logs sent his eyelids downward....
The sound of a log falling jerked him to wakefulness with an undignified snort. Straightening, Caleb wiped a hand over his face and stole a glance at the babies, who still slept soundly. Ben sat staring at him, amusement in the blue eyes so like his mother’s.
“How long did I sleep?” he asked.
“Not long.”
“Bored?”
Ben nodded.
Caleb recalled Abby telling him you had to look for the fun times, that they were where you least expected them. After a moment’s thought, he disappeared into the bedroom and began rummaging around in the bureau drawers, soon finding what he was looking for.
“Come here, Ben,” Caleb said, entering the parlor. Curious, Ben crossed to him. “These were Emily’s,” Caleb said, holding out a drawing tablet and a box of pastel crayons.
He walked over and took an autumn landscape with mountains and a lake from the wall. Done in an impressionistic style, there was little detail in the picture, and he thought Ben might be able to make a credible replica of the piece.
“I thought you might like to try your hand at drawing. Look at this and see if you can copy it.”
“Drawing’s for girls,” Ben said with typical masculine disdain.
“Actually, most of the famous artists are men,” Caleb said, searching his mind for some other activity the boy might enjoy. “But if you don’t want to try, how about a game of chess?”
“I don’t know how to play chess.”
Well, it wasn’t a no, Caleb thought. “Then it’s high time you learned. Why don’t I make us a cup of hot chocolate, and I’ll teach you?”
“You don’t know how to make hot chocolate.”
“Sure I do,” he said with a confidence he was far from feeling. “Your mom told me how.”
* * *
“Abby! What are you doing in town?” Mary Emerson asked when Abby stepped through the door of the mercantile.
“I escaped for the afternoon,” Abby said, unwinding the woolen scarf from around her neck and tugging off her gloves. The warmth from the potbelly stove in the center of the room felt wonderful against her chilled face.
“Where are the children?”
“Would you believe Caleb is watching them?”
Mary’s eyes widened and she burst out laughing. “Caleb? All of them?”
Abby’s smile could only be described as mischievous. “All of them. I told him he needed to learn to take care of them and that I needed to get away for a few hours to do some Christmas shopping. I left him instructions on what to do with Laura and Betsy, and here I am.”
“Will wonders never cease,” Mary said, her eyes still glittering with mirth. She came around the counter and gave Abby a hug. “It’s so good to see you. How is Betsy?”
“Growing like a weed,” Abby said, shrugging out of her coat.
“We’ve been meaning to drive out, but the weather has been so nasty, and it’s almost dark by the time we close, that we just haven’t made it. How are things with you and Caleb?”
“All of us still walk around on eggshells from time to time, but we’re doing well enough, I think.”
“Be patient, Abby,” Mary told her. “Things will work out.”
“I pray you’re right.”
Abby extended the invitation for Christmas dinner and was assured that, like the Stones, the Emersons would be there “with bells on.” She knew she was blessed to have the Emersons’ support and wondered if Bart and Mary would be so generous with their approval if they suspected that Abby had fallen love with their son-in-law, even though they knew Caleb and Emily had not loved each other.
Abby pushed away the troubling thought and wandered through the store, taking time to look at everything that caught her interest. Mary pointed out some soft yarn hats with earflaps and mittens to match, and Abby bought one each for Laura and Betsy. She also bought them each a rag doll—Laura’s with blond braids, Betsy’s with brown. It was a foolish purchase, since it would be spring before Betsy could even hold hers, but it still gave Abby a great deal of pleasure. She bought Ben a pair of new boots, a game of checkers and a book about horses.
Choosing a gift for Caleb was harder. She knew so little about him, and he could buy himself whatever he wanted—not that he did. In the end, she chose three dime novels, a soft flannel shirt and a pocket knife with a scrimshaw handle. She splurged on oranges and chocolate and licorice for Ben’s stocking.
She was almost finished with her shopping when Mary carried a small wooden crate from the storeroom. “I want you to have this,” she said, placing it on the counter.
“What is it?”
“It’s a china nativity set Emily bought while she was away at school. She always put it on the mantel at Christmas. I brought it here because I thought it might make me feel closer to her at this time of year, but when I took it out, I only felt sad. I’ll understand if you feel uncomfortable using it, but please take it. It should be Betsy’s one day.�
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“Of course I’ll take it,” Abby said. “And I’m sure I’ll use it.” She smiled gently at the woman who had the power to make her life miserable, and had instead been one of her most loyal champions. “And you can be sure that Betsy will be told about it when she’s old enough.”
“Thank you, Abby,” Mary said, enfolding her in a close embrace. “You’re a blessing.”
Abby hugged her back. “So are you.”
After telling Mary she would load her parcels later, Abby bade the older woman goodbye and picked her way across the still-muddy street to the café, where she was meeting Rachel.
“Did you get your shopping done?” Rachel asked as they took off their coats and scarves and hung them on the pegs near the door.
“I did, and it was nice not having to worry about how much money I was spending.”
“I know,” Rachel said. “Not everyone in town is so fortunate.”
Ellie, tall, blond and curvaceous, waved them to a table, took their order and soon set slices of caramel apple pie and mugs of fragrant coffee in front of them. To Abby, her friend looked more like she belonged in the pages of Godey’s Lady’s Book than she did running a small-town café.
“Who’s having a hard time?” Ellie asked, joining them at the table.
“The Thomersons,” Rachel said. The expression on her face looked as if she’d taken a bite of a green persimmon. “Elton got into the hooch last night and knocked Meg around again. Our new sheriff put him in jail for a few days to let him think about it, but he won’t be there long—unfortunately.”
“How badly did he hurt her?” Abby asked.
“He broke her arm, so she won’t be taking in any laundry for a while. Her parents can help with the kids, but he’ll tell her he’s sorry and she’ll go back to him, and it will be the same thing a few weeks or months from now.”
“What can we do?” Abby asked.
“Not much,” Rachel said with a sigh. “The truth of the matter is that nothing will change until she decides she’s had enough and leaves him.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Rachel forced a smile, picked up her fork and said with forced gaiety, “Well, enough of that! I came here to enjoy some time with my friends.”
Abby savored every bite of Ellie’s luscious pie and the precious time with her friends even more. As she expected it would, the talk turned to her and Caleb.
“So how is Caleb Gentry as a husband?” Ellie asked, her brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Brooding? Frightening? What?”
Abby laughed. “Brooding? Yes, sometimes. Frightening, never. Well,” she amended, “not after I lost my temper that first time.”
“You lost your temper with Caleb Gentry?” Ellie breathed, leaning her elbows on the table and leaning forward.
“I did,” Abby said. “And lived to tell about it.” Seeing the horrified expression on Ellie’s face, she said, “I’m only joking, Ellie. I have lost my temper with him, more than once actually, but he takes it in stride pretty well.”
Abby grew thoughtful. “In fact, the last time we argued was before Thanksgiving. He wanted to give Ben a shotgun and take him hunting. As you can imagine, I was furious, and then I looked over and saw him leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest watching me rave and rant with this sort of...almost a pleased smile in his eyes. If it weren’t crazy I’d say the wretch was enjoying every minute of it.”
“That’s strange,” Ellie said.
“Our whole marriage is strange,” Abby replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “But it’s not bad,” she hastened to add. “In fact, on the whole, he’s been very good to me and more accommodating than I would have imagined from our first meeting.”
She flashed a smile between Rachel and Ellie. “He likes to read, so we talk about that. And I see a lot of changes in him already, and he’s solid and dependable...”
Lost in her thoughts, Abby didn’t see the look that passed between her friends. “And he’s really attractive if you like rugged-looking men.”
“Oh, dear!” Ellie said, her eyes wide.
“Oh, dear what?”
“You’re falling for him.”
Horrified that her feelings were so obvious, Abby flashed a flustered look from Ellie to Rachel, who was regarding her with a considering expression.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Abby bristled. She made her tone cool and impersonal. “I think Caleb is a good man, but most people don’t realize it because he’d not very social and because of his father’s reputation. He’s treated me and my children well, that’s all.”
Wearing a delighted smile, Ellie got to her feet and swept up the two mugs for a refill. “Pull the other one, honey,” she said, tossing a teasing smile over her shoulder. “It’s got bells on it.”
Thirty minutes later, Abby gave Rachel some money to help out Meg Thomerson, and said goodbye to her friends. It was almost dark when Abby pulled the buggy into the front yard. Happy at having the afternoon to herself, and filled with the joy of the season, she’d stopped on the way home and plucked an armful of pine and holly branches to make a wreath for the front door. It was only when she saw the lights of the house in the distance and allowed herself to contemplate the disaster that might be awaiting her that her happiness started to dissipate.
Laden with packages, she was halfway up the front steps when she heard what sounded like a crow of laughter from Caleb. Surprised, a bit wary, she stopped in her tracks. What on earth?
Balancing her parcels, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside, stunned at the scene before her. Caleb and Ben were seated at the game table, the chess set in front of them. Laura sat in the crook of Caleb’s arm, gnawing on a crust of stale bread. The cradle sat near Caleb’s elbow, and she watched as he gave it a gentle push.
Hearing the door open, Ben cried, “Hey, Caleb! Mom’s home.”
Abby’s gaze met her husband’s. He looked exhausted but oddly content and achingly appealing. His hair looked as if he’d run his hand through it several times—a gesture that was becoming endearingly familiar. A streak of some indeterminate substance that was most likely wet, mushy bread was smeared across his cheek. His end-of-day beard gave him a beguiling but dangerous look that set Abby’s heart to racing. She felt her heart swell with love.
For the first time since she’d stepped into the Gentry house with Rachel, it felt like home.
* * *
The weeks leading to Christmas were the most pleasant Abby had experienced in years. With her help, Caleb had fashioned the pine boughs into a wreath and wired pine cones to it. She’d cut strips from one of his seen-better-days red flannel shirts and sewn the strips together, fashioning a bow at the bottom for a splash of color. When they’d finished, he’d smiled at her, a smile so stunning she’d dared to hope his feelings toward her were changing.
Two days before Christmas, Abby was baking star-shaped sugar cookies when a beaming Ben bounded through the back door. Laura, who was sitting in her chair munching on a cookie, waved her sweet at him and said what sounded very much like “Ben.”
“Mama! Come see what we brought you,” he shouted.
“Shh,” she cautioned, holding a silencing finger to her lips. “You’ll wake Betsy.”
“Okay,” he said in a loud whisper. “But you gotta come see what Caleb and I found.”
Drying her hands on her apron, Abby grabbed a shawl and threw it around her shoulders. Then she settled Laura on her hip and wrapped the heavy wool around them both.
The wagon sat near the back porch, and lying in the bed was a cedar tree. Caleb stood near the rear of the wagon, an expression of anticipation on his cold-reddened face. “Ben said you liked to have a tree,” he said, almost as if he were asking if he’d done the right thing.
“I love a tree, don’t you?”
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t recall ever having one, though we might have when my mother was still here. It’s really nicely shaped,” he added.
“It’s wonderful. Thank you for going to the trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble. I’ll make a stand and Ben and I will put it in the parlor. Where do you want it?”
“Mm, somewhere away from the heat of the fireplace. Maybe in front of the window to the left of the door. I can slide the chair over a bit.”
“That’s where we’ll put it, then.”
As it turned out, the tree was much more than just nicely shaped. It was perfect. When the girls were down for the night and the Bible lesson was over, Abby popped popcorn, which both she Ben both insisted that Caleb help string for a garland.
Mumbling that he “didn’t sew,” Caleb nonetheless took the piece of thread Abby handed him and proceeded to work the popcorn along its length.
“Caleb Gentry, stop that!”
His gaze flew to hers and he spoke around a mouthful of popcorn. “Stop what?”
“Stop eating the popcorn. I’ve been watching you and Ben both, and you’re eating more than you’re stringing.
“Doesn’t the Bible say something about a man not eating if he doesn’t work?”
“Yes.”
“Then since I’m working, I thought I’d earned the right to eat,” he said his expression one of false sincerity.
“And I think that’s what’s meant by twisting the scriptures,” she told him in a prim tone as she tore more narrow strips from the cast-off shirt to use as bows on the tips of the branches. Neither Caleb nor Ben missed the way she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, and they both broke out into soft laughter.
Perfectionist that he was, Caleb made certain that the popcorn garland was draped just so, then looked the tree over and announced that it was lacking something.
“A little sparkle would be nice,” Abby said after a moment. “Something to catch the lamplight. I have some silver stars William cut from the bottoms of cans, if you don’t mind us using them.
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