Carol's Choice Page 6

  “My sisters are grown up. But you’ve met them. Molly is the oldest. She’s the one who has the twins. Your Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Maggie, is my younger sister.”

  “Why don’t they live here with you?” Annie turned her attention to Mark’s mother, who was flattening dough with her rolling pin.

  “That’s the nature of things. Children grow up, fall in love and move away. My daughters live with their husbands in their own homes.” Tennessee’s mouth twitched. “I keep hoping my boys will meet someone sweet and marry too.”

  “Maybe you should talk to God about it.” Annie hopped from her chair.

  “Oh, I do.” Mrs. Montgomery laughed. “He just hasn’t answered yet. But He will.”

  Annie patted Mark’s mother's arm. “You just need to have faith.” She positioned her thumb and index finger together. “Just a tiny mustard seed can grow a whole forest. Your daughter taught me that. It’s from the Bible.”

  “Deputy Weaver taught us the same lesson. He said the mustard seed is the smallest of all seeds, but when it grows up, it becomes a tree.” Andrew pointed with a broken piece of gingerbread. “Our sister is nice. She’s not a very good cook, but she’s getting better. Mr. Mark, why don’t you marry Carol, and then you can live with us.”

  Carol gasped. “Andrew, enough.” Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks. “It’s impolite to speak about personal things to an adult who is not part of your family.”

  “I don’t mind.” Mark chuckled. “But I believe your sister does, so you’d best do as she says.”

  Annie straightened. “If Mr. Mark marries you, Carol, won’t he be part of our family?”

  Chapter 13

  Carol sat at her dining table with Maggie. Morning rays of sunlight shone through the two windows and reflected onto the cornstalks soaking in a metal bowl filled with water. Carol retrieved a stem and unfolded it. “I think the next batch is pliable enough.”

  Maggie nodded. “That should make a nice pair of wings for your tree topper.”

  “I could never imagine corn husks could become such beautiful ornaments." Her eyes wandered along various-sized angels, twisted into shape by Andrew and Annie this morning. Now they lay drying across the tiny room on her pie safe, the bench and trunks situated under her two front windows. “The bits and pieces of lace and ribbon give each one its own personality,” Carol said.

  “My favorites are the ones with orange peels for wings.” Maggie picked up a small ornament and balanced it in her palm. “They smell nice too.”

  “Let's not forget the added benefit of eating the fruit they were covering, which was delicious.” Carol touched Maggie's arm. “Thank you so much for showing us how to make them. I was worried the children would be disappointed because we had no glass ornaments. But these were so much fun to make, and they’re charming.”

  She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and glanced toward the loft. “All they have ever known is the grand tree, decorated by my stepfather's staff. It was magnificent, but they weren't allowed to touch it.” She blinked. “Now that I think about it, we had to stand several feet back for fear of breaking something.”

  “Although I've read about them in Godey's Lady’s Magazine, I've never seen a tree decorated in such a way. There was an article about a tree at the White House last year. The editorial said the tree was decorated with wooden soldiers, hand-blown glass figures, candles, tinsel and toys for President Harrison's grandchildren.”

  Maggie suppressed a giggle. “I enjoyed the idea of such a tree but couldn't imagine presents hanging on its branches next to glass ornaments. No matter how careful one was, I’d be petrified to break something. That alone would take the fun out of decorating.”

  Children's laughter drew Carol's attention to the ladder mounted on the wall. Stars made with sticks tied together, wrapped in colored yarn adorned the steps and hung from the garland on the railing of the children's loft. “Last year this time, I would have scoffed at such a statement. Christmas was a time for lavish parties and decorations. Each year my mother was in competition with friends, each attempting to outdo the other with something more extravagant than the last.” Carol swallowed and faced Maggie. “Our calendars were filled with things to do and places to go, which had nothing to do with Jesus's birth. As a matter of fact, we were so busy celebrating, it was unusual for my family to do anything together, let alone attend church. These past few weeks have shown me how much we were missing, not only in our family life but about the true meaning of Christmas.”

  Maggie wrapped her arms around Carol and patted her shoulder. “I'm so happy you're here.” She stepped back and offered a watery smile. “We still have a week until Christmas. Imagine how much fun we're going to have.”

  ~

  “It's perfect.” Annie hopped up and down while Andrew steadied a bald cypress.

  Mark added another pail of soil to a tin tub. “That should do it.” He flashed Carol a wide grin, which caused her heart to pound.

  “Goodness, it seemed so much more compact on the outside. But there's plenty of room to put our angel on top.” Surprised, Carol blinked away tears and watched Mark tap the soil with his boot and add several stones to secure their Christmas tree. His patience with her brother and sister never wavered.

  Annie squealed and retrieved several handmade ornaments they had worked on over the past few days. Carol's heart fluttered when her fingers brushed Mark's as they trimmed the tree with three rows of popcorn garland.

  “Y'all did a good job with the ornaments.” Mark tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. They stepped back and watched Annie and Andrew hang star-shaped gingersnap cookies threaded with twine on various branches.

  Andrew retrieved the strands of gingerbread men strung together with red ribbon and hung them in the space between the popcorn garlands. Annie demanded Mark’s attention, and he obliged as she stood on tiptoe and instructed him where to hang her miniature angels.

  “This is the best Christmas ever.” Andrew declared.

  “And the most wonderful tree.” Annie extended her arms wide.

  Mark positioned several candleholders with clay weights designed for balance on the branches having crafted them in his father's blacksmith shop. Then he stood back, posted his hands on his hips and admired his work. “We'll have to pick up some more candles at the mercantile before Christmas Eve.”

  Carol turned and took the few steps to her pie safe. She picked up the exquisite cornstalk angel she and Maggie had created. The full drape of the gown flared open in order to fit on the treetop. The wingspan measured about eight inches and the face beamed under a twisted stalk, which made a perfect halo. She took in a deep breath and returned to her family.

  My family. Carol admired her siblings' happy smiles and pink cheeks. Her eyes traveled to Mark's broad shoulders. His hair curled slightly at his collar. She felt her heart melt when he patted Andrew's back and thanked him for lending his muscles to bring in the tree.

  Carol closed her eyes for a moment and could almost imagine another Christmas when she was about Annie's age. Her father reading the Christmas story from the Bible and lifting her to place a star on the tree, her mother's laughter while they decorated with chains made from long strips of paper. How could she have forgotten the simple life they’d lived when her father was alive? Happy memories. Lord, what do you want for me and the children? Can you please show me what your will is in this?

  “Everything okay?” Mark's eyebrows knitted together.

  Carol stared into his dark eyes. “I was just remembering a Christmas a long time ago when I was a little girl.”

  “Good memory, I hope?" He brushed his lips against her knuckles, making her knees feel weak.

  “Yes, very.” Carol sniffed.

  Chapter 14

  Carol tapped her finger on the Rumford Yeast Calendar nailed to her back wall. Three images of wide-eyed children with blond hair glared at her. Today was Monday, December 22nd, and she'd yet to determine what to give Annie
and Andrew for Christmas. She tapped her finger on her cheek, then glanced at the clock. Maggie and her new friend, Lois, the dressmaker, were meeting her for lunch at the diner today. If she hurried, she'd have time to stop by the mercantile on her way just in case a letter to Santa had been dropped by the post office.

  She picked up her reticule, counted her coins and grabbed her shawl. Securing the door and stepping off her front porch, she took in a deep breath of crisp morning air and hurried toward the mercantile. Carol walked through the double doors and headed toward the back corner to the post office. A thin man in his early twenties was sorting mail. She cleared her throat. "Good morning, I'm Carol Stone."

  The young man straightened his back and stared. “You've got a letter. Give me just a moment.” He flipped through a pile of envelopes. “Here you go.”

  Carol ran her finger along the return address, recognizing it as her attorney’s. “Thank you.”

  The young man nodded and continued his sorting. “You’re welcome." He paused, glanced up and raised one eyebrow. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, I spoke to your father last week. He mentioned some of the children dropped off letters to Santa Claus.” Carol motioned with a flattened palm the height of her siblings. “My brother is eight and sister is five. They both have blond hair. By chance, do you know if they might have done so?”

  The young man pulled on his ear. “I've got a few left, but I don't have any idea who they are from. Kids’ writing can be hard to read, and most of the time they don't put the last name or a return address. I've got a stack you can go through if you want. You might recognize the handwriting.”

  “Thank you so much. I appreciate your kindness.” Carol bit her lip while the postmaster reached into a drawer.

  “Only three left. We were able to determine which families the others belonged to.” He extended the folded letters, two written on brown-wrapper packaging.

  Papers in hand, she immediately felt the stark difference in one fine piece of stationery resembling her own. Her mouth twitched as she was reminded of the Montgomery family's mission of putting Christmas into action. She dropped the letters into her reticule. “I'll take all three.”

  ~

  Carol inhaled the fresh scent of coffee, her eyes sweeping the room. Horseshoes adorned rough-sawn plank walls. A pot-belly stove graced the far end. Every bench seat was filled at the large wooden tables. She caught sight of Maggie and Lois and rushed to greet them.

  “Your timing is perfect. This table just became available and we grabbed it.” Maggie beamed. “I'm so happy you could join us. The waitress brought coffee, but it will be a few minutes before she gets back to take our order.”

  “I'm sorry to be late. I had a letter at the post office and stopped to read it before I made my way here.”Carol slid onto the bench next to Lois.

  “The supply train came in, and a few people just got off and will need to get back on board quickly. They'll serve them first, so we've got plenty of time.” Lois smiled. “Mrs. Montgomery is watching the baby for me, and I have about two hours before he needs to be fed.”

  “You say you received a letter? Not bad news, I hope?” Maggie's eyebrows drew together.

  “Some people might consider it bad news.” Carol twisted the cord on her reticule. "But considering the source, I'm surprisingly happy about the contents.”

  “Don't keep us in suspense.” Maggie passed the cream to Carol.

  “It's from the children's uncle who wholeheartedly disagrees with my decision to move here but chooses not to fight it. He reminds me in his letter he has neither the skills nor inclination to raise my siblings. He's leased my stepfather's home and is happy that the children's education fund can remain intact and accrue interest.” Carol took a sip of coffee.

  “That's it?” Maggie’s mouth opened and closed. “He didn't ask about how you and the children are getting along?”

  “The attorney and I correspond, so I'm sure he is aware of our circumstances. In fact, I'm certain of it.” She reached for her purse and pulled out the letter. “He's adjusted our quarterly allowance to accommodate for a reduction in fuel for heating our small home and for transportation since we obviously will not be in a position to keep a horse and buggy.” Carol paused and glanced at her friends' surprised faces.

  “He states that since my choice is to live like a pauper, I will be compensated in the same manner. The allowance for the children will be exactly fifteen dollars per month.” Carol turned the letter so her friends could see the budget. “That's less than half of what I spent on a traveling dress I purchased before I came to Carrie Town.”

  Maggie blinked. “That's not much, but it's manageable.” She squeezed her hand. “My family and I love you and will help any way we can.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” She shook her head. “The odd thing is I'm not disappointed. My attorney warned me my stepfather's brother could delay any allowance for months, possibly years. He’s a bitter man. In a way, he did us a favor. The children and I will be better off away from his influence.” Carol glanced down at her cup.

  “I'm so sorry for the losses you've had to endure.” Lois's eyes filled with tears.

  “Goodness gracious, Carol, we must change the subject to something happier. When Lois cries, it's not a pretty sight.” One side of Maggie's mouth turned down as she watched her friend pull a handkerchief from her pocket.

  “Which reminds me.” Carol pulled the correspondence to Santa she'd taken from the postmaster. “I know what Annie and Andrew want for Christmas. I also have two additional letters from children who live in the area.”

  “You look worried. They didn't ask for a pony, I hope?” Maggie offered a half smile.

  Carol laughed. “No, nothing like that. The thing is, I’ve been praying and asking God to show me what I need to do, what steps I need to take. He may have answered it by way of these letters.” She bit her lip. “But I’m afraid Lois may need another handkerchief.”

  Chapter 15

  Armed with a basket with sandwiches for Mark and his brothers, Carol took in a deep breath. The afternoon sun beat down on her head, and sweat trickled down her back. She’d been surprised by the upturn in the thermometer. Maggie had assured her there would be a dip in the temperature soon.

  The stone livery stable came into view. From a distance, Carol could hear Mark and his brothers, Mike and Moses, singing, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” What perfect harmony. Her heart pounded—whether from her hurried walk or the thought of telling him her decision—she was uncertain. At the conclusion of the chorus, Carol applauded.

  “Look who’s here.” Mark lowered his pitchfork and pushed his Stetson to the back of his head. “This is a nice surprise.” He took the basket and handed it to his brother. “Mike was just about to head over to the house and bring lunch back.”

  “Your mother was visiting with Lois, so I offered to drop the sandwiches by.” She patted her pocket. “It gave me an excuse to tell you what I picked up at the post office without the children being close enough to hear.”

  “I hope you realize you don’t need an excuse to stop by and visit.” Mark walked closer, his curious eyes searching hers.

  Carol’s heart leaped in her throat. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

  “Some days are busier than others. But I can afford to break for lunch. Have you eaten?” He reached into the basket and pulled out a sandwich and container of lemonade.

  “Yes, Maggie, Lois and I ate at the diner.”

  Mark waved to Mike. “I’ll be in the back.”

  “Take your time.” His brother grinned, displaying a dimple on both sides of his mouth.

  Carol followed Mark to a path outside the stable and watched while he washed at the pump. Dressed in rugged work pants and gingham shirt, his style of dress and type of work were the direct opposite of any man of her acquaintance, yet she thought him the most handsome and admirable man she’d ever met.

  Taking her hand, Ma
rk directed her to the back of the stable overlooking the pasture. They sat next to each other on a bale of hay. While Mark munched on his sandwich, Carol took in a deep breath enjoying the rich tangy aroma of alfalfa. “The longer I live here, the more I find to love.”

  Mark offered a slow smile and reached for her hand. “Like what exactly?”

  “Why, the smell of hay of course,” she teased.

  Mark chuckled. “Tell me about the visit to the post office. Did Mr. Mackenzie have a letter from the kids?”

  “Not only did he have one from Annie and Andrew, but two other families as well. And in the spirit of your family’s idea of putting Christmas into action, I picked up all three requests. They were the sweetest letters I’ve ever read.”

  Carol smoothed one brown-paper letter and handed it to Mark. “We don’t know who the author of this letter is. Lois is going to ask her brother, Deputy Weaver, to see if he can determine who they are and where they live.”

  Mark rubbed his chin. “If anyone can figure it out, Leo will. He’s a good man. He’s helped teach the children in Sunday School for years.”

  Carol nodded. “Lois mentioned the possibility of it being a family who might have moved here recently.”

  Mark squinted. “It says they’d like a coat for their sister so she won’t be cold when she looks for work. I can't make out the last sentence.”

  Carol leaned closer. “We think it says, ‘it doesn’t have to be pretty, just warm.’” She stared mesmerized at Mark’s Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

  “You say the next one is from Betsy and Thomas?” His voice was rough.

  “They asked for yarn so their mother could make them new socks. I thought the handwriting belonged to Thomas. He wrote their mother was sad because she hadn’t been able to work and now she was feeling better, but she didn’t have material to make their winter clothes.” Carol felt her lips quiver. “I’ve never felt more humbled in my life.”

  Mark tilted her face towards his. “As you say, these are simple requests. We can pick up whatever they need when we go to the mercantile this afternoon.”