South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

     
M
ark and Virginia watched the filly circle the corral, stopping occasionally to shake her head at the youngsters playfully.

      “She’s really beautiful,” Virginia remarked, as she leaned over the split rail fence with the boy.

      Mark spoke to the horse softly and she stepped up to him cautiously, wary of the new friend he had brought along.

      “I don’t think she belongs to anyone now. I’m hoping my Pa might let me keep her.” Recollections of the ravine flashed through his mind. The boy had always loved animals, but he swore on that day he would never speak a harsh word or shoot or trap any animal simply for sport. He had seen so much suffering that day, suffering that no creature should ever have to endure.

      “She really likes you,” Virginia jumped down from the fence and brushed off her skirts.

      “I think any animal likes someone who is kind.”

      “I have to go back home to North Dakota tomorrow,” she sighed as the two walked the path back to Stavewood. “I had a really good time at the fair and everything. Would you mind if I wrote you a letter or something when I get back home?”

      “Alright.” Mark had his hands in his pockets and he kicked at the dirt with his leather boot. He had spent several days in the girl’s company and he liked her soft and gentle disposition. He knew that he didn’t have feelings for her like his father had for Rebecca, or Roland for Emma, but he thought she was kind and liked the same things that he did. He began to wonder if that was how people made mistakes about falling in love. Maybe they just really liked someone and thought they were in love. He looked up to Virginia, walking beside him and wondered if maybe she thought she was in love.

      She smiled at him sweetly with an expectant look in her eyes and he suddenly leaned to her and kissed her softly, touching her cheek with his lips.

      Virginia gasped softly and as he stepped away she stood up to him and kissed him back, quickly on the lips, then took his hand and continued along the path.

      “I’ll write you as soon as I get home,” she spoke softly.

      Rebecca pulled the rose hips from the bushes, watching the young couple furtively. She had seen them walk out to the back stables together and had taken note of how long they were gone. She sighed with relief that Mark was a well behaved child, and now a very responsible young man. She felt confident that he would never do anything that would be considered improper with the girl, and when she saw them kissing cautiously in turn, she was certain it was their first.

      She thought back to her first time, her first marriage, and shuddered at the memory. She rarely thought of that now. She watched the couple climb into the wagon as Mark pulled away to take the girl back to her uncle’s home. They had said goodbye to the family earlier, Virginia was well mannered, Rebecca thought, and she had enjoyed having the girl along for the last few days of summer.

      Rebecca rubbed her back slightly as she stood upright and walked to the garden bench. Once she had dreamed of a place like this, a home and a family. It was so easy to take it all for granted, she thought. To forget the times when she was alone, when she was afraid. She rarely thought about the train ride and the horrifying trip from England. She had no reason to. She had a wonderful husband, strong and loving and a daughter she adored. She had seen her best friend, her cousin Emma, find happiness and bring love into a man’s life who seemed to know only pain. She watched the wagon turn out of sight and sighed. She had watched Mark grow from a child into a handsome and sensitive young man. She ran her hand over her growing belly. This one would be a boy she thought, her pregnancy different in many ways. She hoped that he too would find love in beautiful Minnesota.

      Emma walked up the road, a laughing expression on her face, Émigré at her heels, scampering along happily and then running into the garden. He panted with excitement and tumbled over at her feet, eager to have his tummy rubbed. Rebecca liked that they had kept the name of the pup. She and Emma were emigrants themselves she thought and the furry Collie fit right in.

      Louisa slammed the back door loudly as she scampered out at the sound of the puppy’s greeting barks and the two fell together onto the soft grass, the child giggling uncontrollably and the puppy yipping continuously.

      “Rumor has it that you are starting your fall cleaning today,” Emma joined Rebecca on the bench. “I’ve been instructed to supervise lest you overdo.” Emma smiled.

      “I’m being very good,” Rebecca assured her. “While the girls are taking down the summer curtains I came out and puttered in the garden. After the windows upstairs are washed you can watch me supervising them putting up the winter drapes. Would that fulfill your responsibility to keep me from doing too much?”

      “Perfectly,” Emma responded, chuckling as she watched the antics of the child with the tiny dog.

      “She sure loves that puppy,” Emma remarked. The animal was so loving and affectionate. He tried hard to be a watch dog, running off a chipmunk in the garden and then returning to Emma dutifully, tongue lolling and filled with pride.

      “Timothy and I talked about getting one for her ourselves, but with the baby coming I’m not sure I want one living here all the time.”

      “Let her enjoy Émigré for now. He has so much energy and it helps me if she wears him out as well.”

      “We’re so lucky Emma,” Rebecca choked back tears.

      “Oh, honey,” Emma put her arms around her cousin’s delicate shoulders. “Why are you crying?”

      “I just saw Mark kiss Virginia. I think it was their first. Then I was thinking how lucky I am, we all are.” She pulled a soft cotton handkerchief from her pocket.

      Emma began to cry as well, the two women wrapped in one another’s arms, sobbing suddenly.

      Timothy and Roland emerged from the mill path and stopped, watching the women. Louisa giggled with the dog and both men knew there was no need for alarm. They stood witnessing the emotional release between the women, and Timothy smiled.

      “I guess all the tears are part of it,” Roland remarked.

      “Wait until the baby starts kicking all night. You’ll be shedding plenty of tears yourself,” the big man chuckled.

Chapter Thirty-Six

    
 
T
imothy stepped down from the wooden ladder to join the others as they looked on from across the big room, the fresh smell of pine filling the air and the tree draped in garlands and sparkling ornaments. The porcelain angel tilted slightly to one side and he climbed the ladder again to set it straight.

      The holiday tree, a huge Scotch pine, stood in the center of the ballroom at Stavewood, the branches filled with tiny candles and miniature silver pails filled with treats. Rebecca smiled approval as Timothy returned to her side.

      Most of the preparations were completed for the Christmas Eve gala the Elgersons had planned. There would be a large crowd, including the children of their friends, and those from the orphanage and all would receive gifts.

      Several weeks earlier Rebecca had approached Timothy with an idea.

      “Timothy,” Rebecca had lain beside him in the bed, feeling the soft flutter of her baby inside of her. “Do you remember when we took the vegetables to the children’s home?”

      Timothy Elgerson kissed his wife on the forehead and put his big hand on her stomach softly. “I remember,” he muttered.

      “What do they do for Christmas?”

      “I’m not sure,” he responded, waiting for the movement of a tiny foot or fist.

      “Could we do something for them? We have so much and I’d love to have a party for them.”

      “At the orphanage?” he asked.

      “I was thinking here, at Stavewood. We have plenty of room in the big ballroom. It seems a waste to close it down all winter. We could light the big fireplace and put up a tree. There’s a beautiful one right off of the road close to the Vancouver’s. I don’t think they’d mind. We could buy gifts for all the children, some for boys and some for girls. I’ll get Louisa to help me decide. We have so much, Tim. I don’t want to just heap gifts onto each other when there are all of those children in the orphanage with so little.”

      Now the family stood looking up at the pine with pride. Roland and Timothy had felled it and loaded it into the big wagon, and Mark helped them build a sturdy stand and set the tree upright. Rebecca and Emma clapped with appreciation as the men hefted up the tall pine and cut away the binding ropes.

     
      “It’s perfect!” Rebecca gasped, the tree full and aromatic, filling the center of the room invitingly. The women filled the lower branches carefully, and instructed the men as to where they wanted decorations on the higher limbs. There was warm teasing of how Timothy was the only one tall enough to reach some of the higher branches, and what was just beyond his range was done by Louisa, standing gleefully on her father’s lofty shoulder as he balanced her to put up the highest decorations.

      The child was filled with excitement at the idea of giving gifts to so many children. Timothy had arranged for carriages for the youngsters, hiring nannies for supervision of them in small groups.

      Rebecca instructed the staff how to set out tables and food and talked with the magician that was hired to entertain. All of the family had spent several evenings in the big dining room wrapping gifts in foiled papers of blue and rose. There was a toy or book for each child and a massive bag filled with warm mittens and wool stockings for all.

      Virginia had returned to visit her cousins for a brief time before the holidays. She was clearly smitten with Mark, having arrived with a chunky scarf she had knit for him from wool Rebecca had given her during a knitting lesson in the fall. He wore it proudly, appearing oblivious to the myriad of knots and holes, endearing him further to the girl.

      The house bustled with noise and celebration on Christmas Eve, Emma and Roland arriving before any of the guests. Roland helped Emma down from the wagon and lifted her onto the big front porch of Stavewood so that she didn’t get her boots wet in the snow. He had given her a gift that morning, a fine ermine fur which he had tanned expertly and taken to the dressmaker to be fashioned into a warm muff and collar. Emma had put her hair up elegantly and wore a soft, white, woolen dress and red ribbons in her hair. When the couple knocked on the front door of the estate, the butler opened the door promptly just as Timothy descended the main staircase. Roland wore a silk hat and dress jacket beneath his wool winter coat and the couple exemplified the holiday spirit.

      Timothy had chosen a black velvet dinner jacket and, as he turned, Rebecca appeared in red velvet, her hair a tumble of soft curls.

      Stavewood was soon filled with the laughter of family and friends, a string quartet filling the air with holiday music. Youngsters ran merrily through the house, bursting with excitement and anticipation. At dusk the carriages from the orphanage arrived and the children filed into the house in neat lines, gasping reverently as they entered the room. They were fed in generous portions, each child having a place to eat at the long tables that filled the formal dining room. The tree was lit with tiny candles and sparkled with garlands and prisms of crystal and glass. Couples laughed and danced around it, smiling and gliding along as if in a fairy tale.

      Louisa watched one of the girls at the end of the table that she thought might be close to her own age, and noticed her plain and worn clothing. Her attire was ill fitting and her shoes were tattered and thin. She watched the girl eating the cookies and puddings and pies as if she could not get enough. Louisa could not remember a time that she had been that hungry. She found her parents, laughing and talking beside the big tree and she knew they cared for her, meeting her needs in every way. She wished that the children could all stay and eat what they liked every night and sleep in warm beds.

      When it was time to pass out the gifts she wanted to be the one to put gifts in each youngster’s hand, while Mark handed out mittens and stockings. Each child’s eyes were wide with wonder and appreciation. Louisa watched them try on the gloves and enjoy the warmth of them. They opened the toys and books as if they were magical and shared them with one another eagerly, glowing with joy and thankfulness.

      When everyone had eaten and all the gifts were opened, the children, both orphaned and those who had come with their families, sat together on the floor in front of the tree. Timothy had pulled the big chair from the dining room and set it in front of the tree for Rebecca. The room fell into a silent hush as she read
A Visit from Saint Nicholas
in a sweet and gentle voice. Many of the guests dried tears from their eyes and the children listened in rapt attention, huddled together and clinging to one another.

      Roland Vancouver looked around the room and then nodded to Timothy Elgerson. The entire family and all of the staff at Stavewood had worked hard to pull off the huge celebration. He inhaled the sweet scent of the pine and the cherry wood burning brightly in the fireplace and pulled Emma closer to his side. She smiled up to him warmly and then watched Timothy across the room with Louisa on his knee, both listening to Rebecca’s narrative with satisfied smiles on their faces.

      Roland pulled the wagon up behind the Vancouver house, took his wife indoors and then returned the horse to the stable. The cabin looked deserted and forlorn now, only used for the stable at all. He unhitched the horse and settled him down then trudged through the snow towards home.

      The moon shone bright onto the meadow. Blanketed in snow, the valley looked soft and peaceful. The creek appeared as merely a dark line, winding through the snow. The evergreens stood black against the bare deciduous trees and Roland noticed deer tracks across the yard. He knew that deer crossed daily and considered that venison would be nice, rich and tasty over the winter months, but he had let the hunting season pass this year. It was too late in the year now for the best selection and he had no stomach to pull out his rifle.

      He dusted the snow from his boots and walked into his home eager to spend his first Christmas Day in his home.