A Western Christmas. Louise M. Gouge
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Caleb hadn’t been completely alone. This man standing before him now had modeled the Heavenly Father’s love in too many ways to count.
The back of Caleb’s eyes burned and his throat closed up tight, too tight to push words past his lips. He thought of Brody Driscoll, of the difficult days ahead. At the boy’s age Caleb had his brothers, and Everett, and the Wainwrights.
Who did Brody have?
He had his aunt Betsy. But the boy needed a father figure, a masculine role model.
The thought had barely materialized when Betsy called her future husband into the kitchen to help her with moving chairs to the table.
Caleb attempted to join the reverend, but he shook him off with a smile. “I’ve got it covered. Go spend time with your daughters.”
“Thank you, Reverend, I believe I will.”
He found the girls still playing jacks with Ellie. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. A sunbeam streamed through the window, backlighting her in golden splendor. Her pale blue eyes were thickly lashed and shimmered with good humor. She was as lovely and as bright as the sun behind her, her skin as lustrous as a pearl.
Her pink lips parted in a smile and his mind emptied of everything but her. This is Ellie, he reminded himself. He knew he was in deep trouble the moment she looked in his direction.
A profound ache spread from his heart and traveled up into his throat. Unable to resist her, he entered the room. The click of his heels on the hardwood floor was as familiar as the fixtures on the wall. The look and smell of Christmas was all around him.
“I love your tree, Miss Ellie,” Hannah remarked in a wistful tone.
“We don’t have one in our house,” Grace added, looking—and sounding—as forlorn as Caleb had ever witnessed.
Regret swirled in his stomach. He’d been so focused on finding his daughters a mother he’d let the smaller, equally meaningful matters slip away from him. Just because he didn’t have a wife to provide the girls with a stable home didn’t mean he couldn’t get them a Christmas tree.
“There’s a simple solution,” he said, stepping fully into the room, into the moment. “I’ll cut us down a tree of our own this week.”
“Oh, Papa, do you really mean it?” The restrained joy in Grace’s eyes was mirrored in Hannah’s gaze.
Their genuine surprise came as somewhat of a blow. “I absolutely mean it.”
The girls cheered, then hopped to their feet and rushed to him. He trapped them against his chest.
“My dear sweet girls,” he said in a low, choked voice.
How he loved them.
“You’re the best, Papa,” Grace said into his shirt.
“The very, very best,” Hannah agreed.
Overcome with emotion, he leaned down and buried his face in their baby-fine hair that smelled of the lilac soap he’d bought at the mercantile last week.
He felt his chest tighten with unspeakable love so strong it nearly brought him to his knees. A soft gasp came from Ellie. On impulse, he glanced over at her. Her eyes swam with some unreadable emotion. The look made him feel somehow taller, maybe even heroic.
“If you need help decorating your tree,” she said, shifting to a standing position, “I’d love to offer my assistance.”
The girls stepped out of his arms and proceeded to shower their enthusiasm onto Ellie.
Caleb caught what looked like a vulnerable expression on her face. Was it a look of longing, he wondered, or was it a trick of the light?
Betsy called them all to the table. There was a festive feel to the meal. Heaping bowls of whipped potatoes, corn and preserves were passed around, while varied conversations collided over one another.
Why had he avoided this home?
Why had he denied his daughters the taste of normalcy and stability he himself had found with this family?
The meal went by in a blur.
Once they finished eating and Betsy had set aside two plates of food for her sister and nephew, the girls asked if they could sing their song. Betsy guided the twins toward the piano in the living room.
Reverend Wainwright joined them.
Caleb stood beside Ellie in the doorway and watched his daughters entertain the older couple. A silence—comfortable as only one between longtime friends could be—settled over them.
Now, he told himself, make your offer now.
“Can we talk?” He waited for her to swing her gaze to his to finish the rest of his request. “In private?”
The question seemed to render her momentarily speechless. She rallied a second later. “Yes, of course. Why don’t we take a short walk?”
“Splendid idea.”
* * *
Huddled inside her coat, Ellie fell into step beside Caleb. They walked in companionable silence for several blocks then retraced their steps at a slower pace. Not quite sure what had motivated his request to speak with her alone, she slid a covert glance his way from beneath lowered lashes.
He appeared lost in thought, and she wondered at that, wondered what was on his mind. But then she feared she knew.
“Is this about the Christmas tree?” she blurted out. “Did I overstep by offering to decorate it with you and the girls?”
“You didn’t overstep.” He drew to a halt and looked at her with an easy smile, prompting her stomach to twist.
She opened her mouth but shut it when she realized he wasn’t through speaking. “In fact, I want to thank you for the offer. The children have never had a Christmas tree, so I’m pleased they’re going to get one this year.”
No Christmas tree? Ever? “But surely your wife—” She cut off the rest of the words. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have brought up Lizzie.”
But now that she had, she realized this would be Caleb’s first Christmas without his wife, and his daughters’ first Christmas without their mother.
“In answer to your unspoken question, no, Lizzie didn’t decorate for Christmas.” Something cheerless came and went in his eyes. “Holidays made her melancholy.”
Ellie sensed there was more to the story, but she didn’t think now was the time to pry. “I’m sorry, Caleb, for you and the girls.”
“Thank you.” He began walking again. She trotted to catch up then slowed her pace to match his.
The tension on his face told her he needed to unburden himself about something. Ellie reminded herself that above all else she was this man’s friend. Friends offered one another support, no judgment, no condemnation, no inquisitions.
“Christmas isn’t solely about the decorations,” she began. “It’s about being with family and...”
She let her words trail off, regretting opening her mouth, fearing he would misunderstand what she’d meant to say.
“I don’t disagree, Ellie. Family is everything. But the girls have never experienced a real Christmas with all the trappings. I want that for them.”
Those poor children.
This poor man.
No wonder Caleb wanted to remarry so quickly after his wife’s death. “At least you have Betsy,” Ellie offered in a small voice. “She’ll make your house a home this Christmas.”
“I’m sure she will.” His response lacked enthusiasm.
In that moment, Ellie felt such longing. I want to be the woman to give