Carol Ritten Smith Read online

  “Truce,” he called innocently.

  She crouched low behind her cover. Is that so? Come a little closer and we’ll see. She waited until she estimated he’d be just a few yards away and then she let him have it, two snowballs at a time.

  Laughing, Tom charged her, dodging the barrage of snowballs. He dove at her and grabbed her arms with one hand. “Hey, lady, don’t you know what a white flag means?” he asked.

  “I’m not as gullible as you might think, Tom Carver! Usually when someone raises the white flag of surrender, he doesn’t have the other hand loaded with ammunition,” she responded, laughing.

  He brought his hand from behind his back. “Guilty,” he confessed and then tossed the snowballs high in the air so they would come down on her. She ducked them.

  Laughing, the couple fell back on the snow, exhausted, and stared at the clear blue sky above them. Then Tom began to chuckle and soon his chuckle turned into a down right good laugh that chugged puffs of white vapor into the air like steam from a locomotive engine.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Oh nothing.” He laughed in spite of his reply.

  “What? Tell me!”

  He could barely get the words out. The more he thought of it the funnier it seemed. “I just remembered the last time I pelted a teacher with a snowball.” He broke into another spasm. “He gave me the strap for it.” By now, tears were rolling down his face.

  Beth raised herself on her elbow and looked at him in disbelief. “And that’s funny?”

  “No,” he answered and then rolled back and forth, arms folded across his gut as he succumbed to another fit of laughter. “It hurt like the dickens.”

  She stared at him for a minute and then began laughing too. It was ludicrous to laugh about something so serious, but somehow that made it seem all the more hilarious, and they rolled on the snow holding their sides.

  Finally, when the humor passed, Tom turned and studied Beth, a smile still playing on his lips. He hadn’t had a good belly laugh in a long time. It felt wonderful, and it felt even more wonderful because he had shared it with her. “You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. I like it.”

  Beth sat up abruptly.

  “And your hair, you should leave it down, like at the Christmas concert. It’s real pretty that way.”

  Pretty! She was unaccustomed to compliments, and especially from him. He was making it increasingly difficult not to like him. It had been so much easier to keep her guard when he had been taunting her. She hastily rolled her damp hair and pinned it back up as best she could and then stood, brushing the snow from the folds of her skirt.

  “We’d better get the sled back up the hill before Davy has a fit.” She marched on ahead of him, leaving him to drag the sled. And he didn’t mind one bit because he got to watch the sway of her skirt as she sallied up the hill. Not bad, not bad at all.

  Chapter 10

  The moment the sun started sinking behind the hill, the temperature dropped drastically and the exhausted group hurried back to the Betner’s home.

  “Now you all go into the parlor,” Mary instructed, taking everyone’s coats. “Why don’t you get out your guitar, Tom, while I fix us something warm to eat. Earl, would you help me, please?”

  It amused Beth the way Mary could take control, firing orders and everyone automatically obeying them. She presumed that years of teaching in a one-room schoolhouse had made Mary that way and it was only a matter of time until she would be the same. She smiled, thinking that, as far as Bill was concerned, she was already too bossy.

  After tossing a log into the fireplace, Tom took up his guitar. He tuned it for a minute and then tuned some more, as if reluctant to start playing. “I’m afraid Mary’s expectations far exceed my talent,” he confessed, but when his fingers gently strummed the guitar and he sang Silent Night, Beth was nearly breathless.

  “That was beautiful.”

  “It was written for the guitar,” he said simply, taking no credit for his own ability. “Now, what would you like to sing?”

  Sing? There was no way under the sun she was going to sing, when he sang like an angel and she like an alley cat.

  “Why … ,” she stammered, “ … I don’t know.”

  “I know!” Davy piped up. “Can you play Old Dan Tucker?”

  Tom laughed. “It’s not exactly Christmassy, but sure, why not.”

  “Goodie. You play, and me and Beth will sing.”

  Tom began to strum.

  “Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man. Washed his face in a frying pan … ” Davy had no qualms about his singing ability when perhaps he should have. He belted out the first verse, got miserably lost in the second, and by the third verse, Beth, whether she wanted to or not, was singing solo. At least Tom had the good manners to ignore the nervous wavering of her slightly off-key voice.

  It was a tremendous relief for her when Mary and Earl entered carrying mugs of steaming cocoa and a large tray filled with turkey buns and rich cookies and cakes.

  Afterwards, while the adults visited, Davy entertained himself by quietly picking at the guitar strings. If the boy’s playing with his guitar bothered him, Tom never said. Soon thereafter, Davy climbed up into his lap, apparently having mastered the instrument.

  “Getting tired, Bud?” Tom asked when the boy snuggled his head against his shoulder.

  “No,” Davy replied groggily.

  Beth rose. “I think he’s ready for bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “Let me give him my present first, okay?”

  Davy’s heavy eyelids opened wider and he sat forward. “You got me a present?”

  “Nope, just checking to see if you could hear with your eyes closed.”

  Beth retrieved the gift from under the tree, passed it to Tom who in turn passed it to Davy. “Merry Christmas, Bud.”

  “Gee thanks.” He tore off the paper and when he saw the gift, he was momentarily speechless. Then the words started tumbling out. “Oh boy! Wow! You’re giving me your knife?” He turned it over and over. “Wow. Now I can whittle anything I want. Gee thanks, Tom.” Davy hugged him, then jumped off his knee and ran to show his sister. “Look, now I have my very own knife.”

  “I see. Aren’t you lucky.”

  “Come this spring, when the sap is running,” Tom said, “I’ll teach you how to make a whistle from a willow branch.”

  Davy showed Earl and Mary his knife, but never let it out of his hands. “This is the best Christmas ever, isn’t it, Beth?”

  “Yes. We’ve had a wonderful day. Thank you ever so much for your hospitality, Mary and Earl.” She stood. “It’s getting late. We should be going.”

  “I’ll go get your coats.”

  Tom stood and her heart gave a little flutter when he smiled at her. “And as for you, Mr. Carver,” she added, thinking she needed to say something to him, “don’t think you can throw snowballs at this schoolteacher just any day and get away with it. I may be forced to administer the strap.”

  Grinning, he stepped forward. Her nose barely came to his shoulder. “Miss Patterson, I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

  She laughed lightly, enjoying the unfamiliar tingle his close proximity evoked.

  Mary returned. “Why don’t you walk them home, Tom? By the looks of Davy, he’s not going to make it under his own steam.”

  Beth would have preferred to bid him goodnight in the presence of the Betners, but Mary was right — as excited as the lad was with his gift, Davy could barely keep his eyes open. He whined while they slid his arms into his coat, all the while sleepily insisting that he wasn’t tired.

  Tom hoisted him up in his arms. Davy hugged Tom’s waist with his legs, wrapped his arms around his neck, and nestled his face in the thick sheepskin collar.

  They quickly said their goodbyes and thank yous and ventured out into the cold night.

  • • •

  Their breath formed small white clouds
as they strolled down the main street. Beth smiled at Davy sleeping in Tom’s arms and reached across to pull his collar up around his neck.

  “He loved the knife. Thank you.”

  “He did, didn’t he?” He was more than pleased with Davy’s reaction. He peered down at the little tyke. As sure as the night air chilled his lungs, this boy warmed his heart.

  She opened the door and Tom entered. He waited for her to follow and then kicked the door shut with his heel.

  “You get the lantern. I’ll carry him to bed,” he whispered as he knocked the snow off his boots.

  She quickly doffed her coat, then lit the lamp. She followed him into the boys’ room. He laid Davy on the bed, and proceeded to remove his coat while she struggled with his boots.

  “I’m not going to bother changing him into his night shirt,” she whispered. “He’s too tired and it’s freezing in here.”

  Tom lifted him up and she pulled back the covers.

  “I think he’ll need the extra quilt,” she said.

  He looked around the dimly lit room until he spotted a quilt folded on a chair at the foot of the bed. “This one?” he asked in hushed tones.

  “Yes, please.”

  He handed it to her and then stood back as she draped it over the sleeping lad. As she bent to straighten the cover, coppery strands of hair fell about her face like a golden veil. The soft glow from the lantern cast her features a warm honey color.

  “Ah,” she whispered, “isn’t that sweet? He won’t let go of the knife. See?”

  “Yes,” Tom whispered hoarsely, though he hadn’t seen at all. His eyes were fully focused on her delicate profile, her soft full lips, then down her slim silhouette.

  She glanced at him and he knew she saw desire in his eyes. She quickly started tucking Davy in, ardently pushing the blankets in around the boy until he was shrouded like an Egyptian mummy.

  Tom reached out and touched her arm, halting her administrations. “Beth,” he chided softly, a gentle gruffness to his voice, “he has to breathe.” He loosened the blankets, eased the pocketknife from Davy’s hand and set it beside his pillow where he would easily find it in the morning.

  Silently, they exited the room. Her hands shook as she busied herself with the task of getting a fire laid in the stove.

  Tom couldn’t think of a reason to stay any longer, yet he was loathe to end this wonderful day. He knelt beside the wood box and handed the split firewood to her. “Bill’s not home yet?” he asked, then immediately wished he hadn’t. Of course he’s not home. Any idiot could see that.

  Beth closed the cast iron door and rose in one fluid motion. She retrieved the whiskbroom hanging behind the stove and bent to sweep up the bark chips and dirt. “I really don’t expect him home yet.”

  “I suppose not. Those two getting kinda serious?”

  “Oh, I think they’re just good friends. After all, he’s only sixteen.” She emptied the debris into the top of the stove.

  He chuckled. “Don’t be so sure. When I was sixteen, I had more on my mind than just being friends with a girl.”

  Her body grew rigid and he knew he’d overstepped the boundaries of polite conversation.

  “Well,” she said, shoving the dustpan and broom against his chest, “I am sure you were notorious among the young ladies of Whistle Creek, but Bill is nothing like that. He knows how to treat a lady!”

  Yup, he deserved that one. As he hung up the broom he told himself to get home before he said anything else stupid. And with all good intentions of leaving, he still kept on talking. “I had a good time today. Did you?”

  “Yes. Mary and Earl made us feel so welcome.”

  Tom relaxed some, relieved she was still speaking to him. “Yeah, they’re great. My Mom and Dad and my two sisters died when I was twelve. Mary and Earl took me in. They were real good to me.”

  He noticed her green eyes seem to lose luster, and remembering she had lost both her parents not that long ago, he felt contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil this day by reminding you of your recent loss. You know, if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m available.”

  She shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

  He nodded and took a step toward the door. “I guess I’d better get back. Knowing Mary, she’s going to want everything cleaned up before she goes to bed. Earl likely needs some reinforcement.”

  “I imagine he’s up to his armpits in a basin full of dirty dishes.”

  “Probably.” And they both smiled at the image.

  “I’m very impressed by Mary. She is so organized. Everything planned to the last detail.”

  “Yup, right down to the mistletoe and the seating arrangement.” Tom grinned. “She fancies herself a matchmaker, you know.”

  “I’m sure she’s very good … ” Her comment dwindled to nothing. “Between whom?” she asked cautiously. Then her eyes widened with sudden clarity. “You and me? Why that’s preposterous! Tom, you have to set her straight. I mean, think of it. It’s absurd. We’re as opposite as day and night. And besides, I’m only nineteen, and you’re — well, I mean — not that someone your age is … ”

  Tom cut her off. “I’m thirty-five. I’m not ready for the glue factory quite yet.”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean … please … ”

  “Forget it. I know what you’re getting at and you’re right. Mary is wasting her time. After this thing with Abigail, I’m not ready for another relationship … not for a while anyhow.” He decided to change the subject. “Are you going to the New Year’s Eve skating party? Davy would enjoy it.”

  “We hadn’t planned on going. No skates.”

  “I’m sure Earl and Mary have extras if you decide to go.”

  “Are you going?”

  He wondered if his answer would influence her decision. “Probably.” He found he was holding his breath waiting for her answer.

  She took her time deciding, finally saying, “It would be an enjoyable way to bring in the New Year. I’ll ask the boys tomorrow.”

  “Good. A word of advice though. If you go, dress warmly. A person can get chilled on the ice.”

  She smiled, eyeing him sideways. “What, no sarcastic comment about wearing britches? You’re slipping, Mr. Carver.”

  A sliver of a smile crossed his face. “I think that joke is wearing thin, don’t you, Miss Patterson?” They stood only a breath apart and he was struck with her beauty. Her lips were lush and a voice inside his head urged, “kiss her.” He wanted to. All he would have to do is just lean forward and brush his lips against hers. Even at this distance, he could smell the sweet scent of her and he wondered if her full lips would taste as good. He longed to thread his fingers into her copper strands and hold her head as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly Tom halted his wayward thoughts. It was definitely time to leave.

  “I best get a move on if I’m going to be any help to Earl.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Goodnight, Beth.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Beth closed the door and leaned back against it. Her heart beat erratically. For a moment, when he had gazed at her with an intensity that nearly frightened her, she had thought he might kiss her goodnight. She wanted him to, yet at the same time she was relieved he hadn’t. A little voice within needled her, saying, “coward,” to which she replied silently, “just cautious.” Too bad being cautious left such a dreadful numbness in her chest.

  She slid into the chair at the table, suddenly feeling melancholy. After such a marvelous day, she shouldn’t be gloomy at all. But she was and, though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew why. While most adults were still out enjoying the company of others, she was home at eight o’clock, sitting all by herself because she had to watch Davy. Normally, she didn’t begrudge her responsibilities, but tonight was different. A lump of loneliness obstructed her throat, almost choking her.

  She would give anything to have someone she could disclose her secrets to, someone who would listen and u
nderstand. Someone who would hold her close and tell her everything would be fine. Someone who would never turn her in for the criminal she was.

  The fire in the stove burned down. Beth added more wood and slid her chair closer to the heat. Now toasty warm, she closed her eyes and dreamily allowed herself to imagine that she was like any other young lady on the cusp of womanhood. She pretended she no past and only happiness to fill her days. A languid smile crossed her lips. She was attending a fancy Christmas party. Couples danced. The ladies’ gossamer dresses belled out as they twirled about the dance floor. When Beth entered the hall there was a quiet hush and all eyes turned in her direction. So lovely. How beautiful. Royalty. Soft praises drifted about her. The skirt of her shimmering sapphire dress hung like a delicate bluebell from her waist. Underneath, layers and layers of white chiffon clouds whispered as she floated to the center of the room. Women curtsied as she glided past. Men bowed. The crowd moved closer until they surrounded her. The scene shifted and she found herself high in a tree that overlooked the dance floor. The sun peeked through the green leaves dappling her lovely dress with bright shapes of light. She looked down as the dancers twirled. She climbed higher. The branches snagged her beautiful dress.

  Do stand back. I may fall.

  Fall from grace, fall from grace, the crowd chanted.

  Looking for Cally, Miss Patterson?

  Did you kill your uncle, Miss Patterson?

  Guilty! A faceless being draped a noose around her neck and the branch broke. She dropped.

  Beth awoke with a scream caught in her throat.

  She was on the floor, sprawled out beside the kitchen chair. Her heart clenched in her chest and she could barely breathe. It was several minutes before she was steady enough to stand. Though it was nothing more than a dream, probably brought on by too many rich foods, she couldn’t help thinking how distressing it was to end this glorious day with such an ugly, terrifying nightmare.

  The clock on the wall said ten-thirty so she prepared for bed. Despite exhaustion, she couldn’t fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the noose dangling in front of her. Was the dream an omen or the guilt of her crime surfacing? She prayed for the strength to carry on. And mercy for her sins. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.