Carol's Choice Page 4

  Carol motioned at the display and whispered, “The shop owner has done an excellent job of piquing Andrew’s interest. Thank goodness the boots look to be in a man’s size. I secretly hope there’s nothing like that for sale in his size. They’re not in my budget this year.”

  “I’m sure he will understand,” Mark whispered. “Most children around here receive handmade items for Christmas. As kids we received new mittens, maybe an orange and some penny candy. Pa is good at whittling, so there was almost always an animal or a block and cup set in our stockings. How did you and your family celebrate Christmas?”

  “My mother and stepfather entertained a great deal.” Carol fingered the locket that hung on a thick chain around her neck. “The house was decorated from top to bottom with evergreens, holly and mistletoe. Our dining room table was set with our best china and an extravagant centerpiece.”

  “My mother and sisters place greenery around as well. I love the aroma of pine.” Mark took in a deep slow breath, enjoying the fresh evening air.

  “My favorite decoration was the one my father’s mother brought with her from Germany. It was a small tree made from goose feathers.” Carol smiled.

  “Goose feathers?” Mark met her gaze. His eyes traveled from her lips to the small dimple on the side of her mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that. Did you bring it with you in one of those big crates of yours?”

  Carol shook her head. “I honestly don’t have a clue where it is. Boxed up somewhere in the attic of my mother’s and stepfather’s house in South Carolina, I suppose.”

  She turned her face toward the setting sun. “We had a real tree as well. Someone from our staff would decorate it and have it ready for us when we returned from Christmas Eve church service.”

  “What about your home? I’m sure your mother must do certain things to welcome Christmas.” Carol cast him a sideways glance.

  “One thing about my mother, if she has any choice in the matter, she doesn’t like to do anything by herself.” Mark displayed a wide grin. “She assigns everyone a task and we work together. Several days before Christmas, my father, brothers and I cut a tree and bring it back and set it up in the parlor. We spend the next several evenings decorating together. My mother and sister bake goodies and we string popcorn and put it on the tree.”

  Carol placed a gloved hand over her stomach. “Your description makes me hungry. Do you have a favorite decoration?”

  Mark shrugged. “I can’t say as I like one thing more than the other. But I enjoy the aromas and sounds that come from the preparations of Christmas. Hot apple cider with cinnamon, the blend of butter and vanilla filling the air when sugar cookies are in the oven, the crackling of the evening fire.”

  “I can picture it.” Carol tilted her head and closed her eyes

  He nodded. “Mostly, I enjoy the laughter from my siblings as we eat the cookies my mother set aside for the holiday. The twinkle in Mother’s eye when she pretends to be annoyed that we have already devoured the desserts she intended to serve on Christmas Eve. One of the best parts is the whispering back and forth trying to surprise one another with the perfect gift.”

  “You paint a beautiful memory.” Carol turned her attention to Annie and Andrew. “I want this to be a happy Christmas for them.”

  “To me the best part of Christmas is putting it into action.” Mark patted her hand.

  “Now you sound like Annie.” Carol’s eyebrow narrowed. “What do you mean exactly?”

  Mark pursed his lips. “Doing things for others mostly. Each year we meet as a family and contemplate things to do for other people in the community. The idea was and is to do it in secret, which adds to the fun. As children there was no money to speak of to carry them out, so we had to be creative.”

  “What types of things did you do?”

  “Simple acts like chopping wood for a neighbor or repairing a hinge on a door.” Mark grinned. “Helping with the Christmas pageant.”

  “So, you’ve already started this year?” Carol’s hand flew to her chest.

  “Now you know at least one of my secrets.” Mark waggled his eyebrows and was awarded by Carol’s melodious laughter.

  Chapter 9

  The morning sun peeked from behind a cloud and streamed sunlight over the wood-burning stove, warming the yellow kitchen. Mark’s mother, Tennessee Montgomery, opened a tin of flour and set it on the walnut worktable.

  “Thank you again for helping, Mrs. Montgomery. I followed the recipe for the cornbread dressing, but I can’t seem to get the gravy’s consistency right.” Carol watched Tennessee melt two tablespoons of butter and pour pan drippings from the chicken into her iron skillet.

  “I’m happy to help. I enjoy having you and Annie in the kitchen with me. You’re welcome anytime.” She reached for a wire whisk.

  “Annie’s friend, Betsy Miller, and her family have been going through a hard time since their mother’s illness. I thought I would bring dinner over. It certainly will be better with your gravy.” Carol blew out a breath.

  “I like the way you make dressing.” Annie stood on a chair next to the stove and wrinkled her nose. “I hope I never have to eat the kind we had back home again.”

  Carol bit her lip to disguise a smile and shook her head at her sister. “On previous Thanksgivings our cook made oyster dressing. Annie has declared your cornbread version her new favorite.”

  “You don’t like oysters, Annie?” Mrs. Montgomery added salt and pepper to the broth.

  “No ma’am.” Annie shook her head vigorously. “They remind me of Mr. Scrooge.”

  Mrs. Montgomery paused. “Do you mean the character from Mr. Dickens’ novel, Ebenezer Scrooge?”

  Annie’s head bobbed up and down. “How does it go again, Carol? He was hard and all by himself like an oyster?”

  Carol’s mouth twitched. “An oyster lives closed up at the bottom of the sea. But the references are ‘hard and sharp as flint’ and ‘solitary as an oyster.’”

  Annie studied the butter foaming in the pan. “Oysters have hard shells, are grumpy and don’t like people. That’s why I don’t like oyster stew, soup or oyster anything.”

  “Hmm, I see.” Mrs. Montgomery sprinkled in two tablespoons of flour into the mixture. “Mr. Scrooge certainly had a lot to learn about Christmas, didn’t he?”

  “Which is why all those ghosts came to see him.” Annie extended her arms lengthwise. “He needed a lot of help.”

  “Maggie loved to hear her father read A Christmas Carol.” Mark’s mother stirred the mixture rapidly. “Tell me, of all of Mr. Scrooge’s visitors, which was your favorite?”

  “I liked the giant king with a torch, who brought the food and decorations of evergreens and holly. He’s the one who brought Mr. Scrooge to see Mr. Cratchit and Tiny Tim.” Annie clasped her hands together. “The family laughed and ate and didn’t know they were poor.”

  Mrs. Montgomery’s cheeks lifted with her smile. She nodded toward Carol. “Even after raising seven of my own, I’m amazed at how a young child can grasp what others ten times their age can’t.”

  Carol nodded.

  “Mr. Scrooge was the one who was deprived, wasn’t he?” Mrs. Montgomery clucked her tongue and added more broth. “Even though he was rich, he was selfish, had no friends and ignored his family. But Mr. Cratchit loved and nurtured his family, and they loved him right back. There’s no greater feeling.”

  “What’s your favorite part of the story?” Annie patted Mrs. Montgomery’s shoulder.

  “Hmm. Let me think.” She placed her finger to her cheek. “Can I have two favorites?”

  Annie’s eyes widened. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Montgomery’s green eyes twinkled. “Even though Mr. Scrooge was a selfish grumpy old bear, he recognized his error and got another chance to make things right.”

  “What’s your second favorite?” Annie inclined her head.

  “It reminds me that sometimes, even when a person appears hard on
the outside like an oyster, there may be a beautiful pearl inside. Which is what happened at the end of the story. Mr. Scrooge learned to put Christmas into action.” She added more broth.

  Carol took in a deep breath. A succulent aroma of chicken gravy filled the air. “Mark told me a little about how you and your family enjoy doing good deeds for others, especially during the month of December. Did Dickens’ story influence you in that effort?”

  “The idea stemmed from a sermon we heard years ago when the children were small.” Mrs. Montgomery removed the skillet from the burner. “The pastor encouraged us to use the resources God gave us to do His work. I believe it’s the point of Mr. Dickens’ tale as well. We can make a difference in the lives of others through our actions and deeds.”

  Annie hopped from the chair and squealed in delight. “Andrew’s learning about verbs. The teacher said it’s an action word, like eat, read, write and jump.” Her brow furrowed. “Is help a verb?”

  Carol laughed. “It depends, but in the case of Mr. Scrooge when he helped Tiny Tim, yes.”

  Mrs. Montgomery wiped her hands on her apron and peered at Annie. “Goodness, what a smart young lady you are.”

  “I’ve been so pleased with what she has learned since attending school in Carrie Town. Their teacher is a marvel.” Carol beamed at her sister. “Andrew’s marks have improved as well.”

  “How do you make Christmas a verb, Mrs. Montgomery?” Annie waved her hand.

  Mark’s mother’s mouth spread into a slow wide smile. “I’m so glad you asked.”

  ~

  Within an hour Carol found herself riding between Mark and his mother in his wagon toward the Millers’ house. Tennessee insisted on adding a pie to accompany the chicken and dressing. “I’ll also bring along some tea and honey for Betsy’s mother’s cough.”

  The afternoon sun on their faces added warmth to the crisp air. Annie and Andrew snuggled under a blanket in the back and traveled in amicable silence while Carol took in the scenic view of the low-rolling terrain. She gripped Mark’s arm as he maneuvered the wagon over a rough patch in the road. He chuckled, and Carol felt her cheeks flame.

  She averted her gaze and inclined her head toward a large hamper in the back of the wagon. “How did you learn so much about herbs, Mrs. Montgomery?”

  “I was fortunate my grandmother taught me about the medicinal purposes of plants and how to survive off the land.” She waved her hand toward the flat, dusty landscape. “There are hundreds of different plants out there, and they all have their uses. She used to say, ‘God made them with us in mind.’”

  The wagon wheels rattled as they turned off the main road and took a rocky path. “Many times, the herbs I offer can make a patient more comfortable while the body fights off the infection, but there are times when a doctor is necessary.”

  Carol leaned closer and spoke softly. “My assumption is money is an issue, and they can’t pay a physician.”

  Mark clucked at the horse and pulled to a stop in front of a dreary shanty with a sagging roof.

  “We’re here,” Annie exclaimed. “Look, Andrew, it’s like a fairy house. Betsy says in the summer they have flowers on their roof.” Annie and Andrew scrambled to the ground.

  Carol blinked and took in the sod house with one small window. Leave it to Annie to find the beauty in it. “Children, wait just a moment. Let me and Mrs. Montgomery gather our things and then we’ll knock on the door.”

  Mark’s eyes traveled across the crumbling structure. “A lot of settlers start out in a soddy because it’s quicker and more economical to build. After all, prairie grass is abundant and free.”

  Carol’s voice cracked. “I’ve read about homes built from grass, but I’ve never actually seen one.”

  “They require a lot of maintenance, are vulnerable to rain damage and unless the outside is covered in whitewash or stucco, they don’t last but about five or six years.” Mark leaned closer. Lowering his voice, he said, “How long has their pa been gone?”

  “I think it’s been more than a year.”

  Carol’s stomach rolled. I can’t believe I ever thought negatively about our house.

  Mark assisted his mother out of the wagon, her feet landing on the ground with a delicate plunk. “Before we go in, there are two things you need to know about me.” Tennessee reached for her hamper. “First, I’m not easily put off, and second, I’m not afraid to ask for help.”

  “Anybody who has spent more than five minutes in your company has that figured out, Ma.” Mark winked and swung Carol to the ground. His amused brown eyes made her breath hitch.

  Chapter 10

  After visiting the Millers’ home, Carol found a new sense of contentment in her tiny house and began decorating for Christmas. In an effort to help, she continued to check on the Millers and was happy to hear their mother was gaining strength each day. Today she and Annie were trying a recipe for sugar cookies and were planning on making enough to share with the Millers.

  “When I was your age, I remember making these cookies with Mama.” Carol beat the butter, sugar and vanilla together until they were light and fluffy.

  Annie inclined her head. “I didn’t know Mama could cook.”

  Carol laughed. “When I was a young girl, she cooked quite a bit. But after she married your father, he had such wonderful staff she didn’t need to.”

  Annie peered into the bowl. “I’m glad you’re our cook now.”

  “Me too.” Carol blinked. “I’m surprised by how much I enjoy it. Especially now that I have our stove figured out.”

  “Yep, you hardly ever burn anything anymore.” Annie beamed.

  “Thank goodness.” Carol chuckled.

  “Can we make enough to hang on our Christmas tree?” Annie surveyed the room. “Once we get one, I mean?”

  Carol followed her gaze. She was pleased by the leathery texture of dark green magnolia leaves fashioned together with pine. They dangled from velvet ribbons above the front window and the loft’s railing. Mark had moved their dining table against the wall to make room for a small sapling, but it would still be tight. “I do wish we had Mother’s small feather tree, but don’t worry, Annie. We’ll make room.”

  She stirred flour into the mixture. “And as to your question about the cookies, I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask Mrs. Montgomery what recipe is best to make ornaments. These will be just for practice.”

  Carol patted the dough out in a circle. Annie reached for the cookie-cutter shaped like a heart. “This shape is cute.”

  “I’m glad you like it because it’s the only one we have.” Carol gave a half smile and guided her sister with the cookie cutter and arranged the shapes onto the baking pan. “Now we sprinkle them with sugar, and bake.”

  The sound of heavy work boots along with Mark’s and Andrew’s voices drew their attention toward the front porch. “Go ahead and let them in, please, sweetie.” Carol wiped her hand on the apron as Annie skipped the few steps to the front door.

  “Why hello there, young lady.” Mark leaned forward with his hands behind his back. “Would you and your sister kindly turn around and close your eyes? Your brother and I have come bearing gifts.”

  Annie gasped. “I love surprises.”

  “You love everything.” Andrew scowled. “But you’re really going to love this.” He displayed a snaggle-toothed grin.

  Mark inclined his head. “All right now, both of you turn around and no peeking.”

  Annie squealed and hurried to stand next to Carol. “Okay, we’re ready.”

  “We’re not, so wait just a minute.” Mark’s voice lowered as he gave instructions to Andrew. A dining chair scraped across the floor and paper rattled. “Now turn around.”

  Carol and Annie pivoted. An upside-down feed sack stood on their dining table. Andrew beamed and Mark gave a Cheshire-cat smile. He waved his hand toward the object. “Since the days are getting shorter, I knew you needed more light in the evenings. You also mentioned how much you wished you had
your mother’s small tree, so I asked my sister Maggie to help me and Andrew with a design.”

  Carol swallowed and took slow steps to the table. Annie climbed onto a chair. Her cheeks were pink with excitement. “Hurry, Sissy. I can’t wait much longer.”

  Carol pulled off the cover and unwrapped the brown paper covering a hand-forged, wrought-iron Christmas tree. It was about two feet high and eighteen inches wide with three sides. Three branches with swirled designs held star-shaped candle holders. Carol covered her mouth. “It’s beautiful.”

  Mark’s voice was rough. “I know it’s not the same as your mother’s, but I was hoping you’d like it.”

  Carol started to say something, then stopped. “I love it,” she sniffed.

  Mark extended his arms and wrapped her in his embrace. “I’m glad,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You’ve still got another gift to open,” Andrew called.

  Carol’s voice cracked. “Another present?” She stared into Mark’s eyes. “But it’s still two weeks before Christmas.” She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a handkerchief.

  “Well, this is the type of thing you’ve got to have out before Christmas.” He nodded toward assorted items wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

  “Can I open one?” Annie hopped onto the wooden floor with a thump.

  Mark rubbed his chin. “I tell you what, why don’t I let each of you take a turn?” He glanced toward the settee. “Y’all have a seat and I’ll bring them over.”

  Annie and Andrew joined Carol on the sofa. Mark handed the largest package to Andrew, the middle-sized parcel to Carol and the smallest to Annie. He raised one finger. “Before you open it, I want to warn you that this isn’t a complete set. Pa and I are working together, and hopefully by Christmas Eve, we’ll have the main pieces finished. All right now, Andrew, you go first, but don’t say anything until all three of you have opened yours.”

  Andrew bit his lip, carefully untied the string, and unwrapped the paper. He held up a wooden figure of a man with a staff. Carol gasped and opened her smaller parcel, lifting out a young woman wearing a head covering, carved in a kneeling position. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Mark.”