Damaris could not hide her nervousness as she sat at dinner with her hostess, Miss Dover, and Gil Lewis. Damaris had never shared a festive table with anyone before. She was so conscious of her table manners, or lack of them, that she feared she would break out into a sweat.
But Damaris was quick to learn. She had listened closely to all that Miss Dover had said. She watched her hostess carefully, every now and then receiving a smile of encouragement or a nod of approval. Even so, Damaris found it hard to relax and enjoy herself. She wasn’t even able to take much part in the conversation. Miss Dover and Gil chatted comfortably. Damaris sensed that they had discussed many issues in the past, and today was simply a matter of catching up on the latest happenings in each other’s lives.
They made attempts to bring Damaris into the conversation. When asked a direct question she gave an honest, though short, reply, but she never did relax enough to really become involved.
Nor did she wish to. Damaris held herself in check, giving no information about her experiences in the past, her feelings about the present, nor her thoughts and dreams about the future. Damaris was careful to reveal nothing about herself.
She felt relief when the leisurely meal was finally over. Now she could slip to the kitchen to clean up and let the other two chat by the comfort of the blazing fireplace.
But it wasn’t to be so. After Gil’s heartfelt declaration that the meal he had been looking forward to for weeks had been even better than he imagined, Miss Dover stood, smiled at them both, and then turned to Gil.
“Well, now it’s time for you to pay your dues.”
Damaris wondered what she meant and was surprised to see Gil remove his jacket and lay it aside. He followed this by carefully rolling up his sleeves, his face playfully screwed in mock displeasure.
Miss Dover chuckled softly, then turned to Damaris to explain.
“Gil always does the washing up at Christmas.”
Damaris could not believe what she was hearing. She had never seen a man “wash up” in her entire life.
“But—but I will do it today,” she stammered.
“Oh no,” insisted Miss Dover, “we have had this arrangement for years.”
“But—but I—I have—haven’t been here before,” replied Damaris.
“You may dry,” conceded Miss Dover. “That is usually my chore—but this year—with the three of us—I’ll care for the food and put the clean dishes away.”
“But—but—I expected to do it all and I don’t mind—really,” Damaris hastily continued.
“Now, Miss Damaris,” said Gil in his pleasant drawl, “if you wish to be a part of this little family, then you must accept your assigned task without argument or conditions—or else pay the consequences. I learned that long ago.” He smiled at Miss Dover, then turned to wink at Damaris, causing her cheeks to flame.
Damaris was too flustered to argue further. She hurriedly turned to the table and began to gather dinner plates and cutlery.
The clean-up proceeded as planned, though the kitchen seemed crowded. The man bending over the steamy pan of hot water took up much more room than either woman. Damaris listened to the light chatter and easy laughter. He had spoken of her as part of the family. Damaris was so affected by the thought that she could hardly keep the tears from her eyes. In one way she longed to really be a part of what was going on around her. At the same time she held herself back. She dared not let her heart rule her head. One could be dreadfully hurt by becoming too involved.
“Is that it?” Gil asked as he glanced around the room.
“That’s it,” replied Miss Dover.
“You are definitely getting to be a smarter cook,” he teased. “When I was a kid, you used to dirty three times the dishes—and just for the two of us.”
Miss Dover laughed and her pleasure filled the small room with silvery merriment. “Oh, Gilwyn,” she replied with good humor, “you were the one who made the ‘rule’ in the first place. You said it would be more fun to do things together on Christmas.”
He nodded, sober now. “And I was right,” he insisted, pouring the water from the dishpan into the big pail by the door and wiping the pan so he could place it on the wall hook. “Besides,” he went on, “it has stood me in good stead as a bachelor. I never leave the dishes for more than three days at a time—while other fellas don’t wash up for a week—or two.”
Miss Dover laughed again, and Gil smiled when he saw the look of horror on Damaris’s face.
“He’s just teasing,” Miss Dover defended. “I have been to his place—several times—and I have never seen dirty dishes stacked about yet.”
Gil didn’t pretend further. He rolled his sleeves back to proper position and buttoned the cuffs. “Are we going to play checkers?” he asked.
Miss Dover placed the last dish in her cupboard and turned to him, a slight frown creasing her smooth forehead. “I’ve been thinking about that,” she replied. “Checkers is a two-person game, and now we are three.”
Damaris realized that she was being considered part of the group, and the comment made her heart beat faster. She didn’t wish to be locked in too tightly with this twosome. Being a friend of Miss Dover’s was one thing—but to be considered a part of a family that included a man—that was quite another.
“I—I don’t play checkers,” she announced. “You go right ahead. You two. I’ll—I’ll just watch.”
Damaris wished she hadn’t added the last statement. The truth was, she did not even wish to watch.
“Well, we’ll play the first game then,” said Miss Dover.
“We can make it a tournament,” suggested Gil.
“But I don’t play. Really,” said Damaris again.
“We’ll teach you then,” said Gil as he went to a drawer to withdraw the board and the checkers while Miss Dover placed an extra chair at a small table.
“You sit right here and watch us,” she said. “We’ll explain the game as we go.”
Damaris felt trapped. She sat in the chair as directed and carefully folded her skirts.
At first she held herself back, determined not to become involved in the game, or the players, but in spite of her resolve her interest grew. She was surprised at the intensity Miss Dover gave to the game. The two played skillfully, each intent on winning, but it was Miss Dover who eventually won the game.
“Great move,” Gil conceded. “You got me on that one. I’ll have to keep it in mind for next time.”
“Now you play me,” said Miss Dover to Damaris, apparently eager for another turn at the board.
“Oh, but I couldn’t. I mean—this is the first time I’ve seen the game. I couldn’t—”
“Gil will help you. We’ll both coach you along.”
Damaris could think of no polite way to argue further. She took the challenger’s chair and Gil pulled his chair up beside her. It was unnerving to Damaris. She felt her hand tremble as she reached for the checker for her first move.
She was surprised at how much she had already picked up about the game. Gil often responded with a “Good,” or “Right,” as she made a move. When in doubt she would turn her eyes to his and look for his nod of approval or his whispered alternate move. Even Miss Dover gave approval or advice from her chair opposite. Damaris started to enjoy herself when she got into the game.
Damaris and Gil finally won the game. Damaris knew that Miss Dover had not played with the same intensity as she had during the game with Gil, but still her heart raced with the thrill of victory.
“Now I must play Miss Damaris and you coach,” said Gil as he moved to exchange chairs with Miss Dover.
Damaris breathed a sigh of relief. It had been disconcerting to have him so close, whispering his bits of instructions into her ear. She was certain she would be able to relax and play a much better game with Miss Dover at her side.
But in the end, looking up into the earnest, intense blue eyes unnerved her every bit as much as his presence at her elbow. It was Gil who won the game, in spite of Miss Dover’s good coaching.
“Oh my! Look at the time,” Miss Dover exclaimed when the third game ended. “We must get some lunch before you have to take to the trail home.”
Gil placed a hand on his stomach. “I’m still full from dinner,” he protested, but he did not argue further when Miss Dover hustled toward her kitchen to put on the coffeepot.
Damaris rose quickly to follow. She had no intention of being left in a room alone with Gil and his unnerving blue eyes.
They fixed cold turkey sandwiches and a plate of cookies and tarts and took chairs close to the fire. Damaris was much more comfortable with this arrangement. The room was cozy and warm, even though the frost had completely covered the window.
They talked of simple things. Weather, neighbors, tasks that needed to be done. The fire crackled and snapped, spilling out its warmth. For one unguarded moment, Damaris wished she really could be a part of this family. Intense loneliness washed over her. It was not homesickness. She missed her mama in those moments when she would allow herself to think of her, but she was not homesick. She never wished to return home to her past circumstance.
As she listened half-heartedly to the chatter of her companions, Damaris let her thoughts wander. Memories came in rapidly, small scraps of disconnected pieces, yet they merged and intertwined to make a disturbing whole. Christmases past. They had not been times of pleasure for Damaris. Nor would they be for her mama this Christmas, Damaris mused.
It was even later back home. Her mama might even be in bed by now. She might be alone. Any excuse for a celebration sent her pa scurrying off to the town saloon to find comradeship and as much whiskey as he could afford. Poor as he was, he always found money for too much liquor.
Her mama would worry about his homecoming—hoping that it would be peaceful—and strangely—worry even more that he might not come home at all.
Damaris jerked her mind back to the present. She did not wish to think about home. It was much more pleasant here, in this room, with these two people.
She cast a nervous glance toward Gil. He was a man. Yet he had made no mention of whiskey in connection with Christmas. Nor had he visited the local saloon. Damaris wondered about that. Then she thought again of Captain Reilly and Mr. Brown. They hadn’t used every excuse available to find a bottle, either.
Maybe there really are men who don’t drink,
she concluded. The idea startled her, though she’d had it before. She wondered how many sober men she would have to know before she could finally believe one, finally trust one. Recently she had started telling herself that not all men were like her father. But she always reverted back to the same old feelings—the same old fears—the same old conclusions. She stirred restlessly in her chair and brought two pairs of eyes to rest upon her. She flushed.
“Are you getting tired?” asked Miss Dover with concern. “I know you get up early. I’m afraid I’m a sleepyhead and sleep in until eight. I forget about those who must rise at six.”
Damaris shook her head. She was not tired. She wondered if she would even be able to sleep when she did go to bed.
“I must go,” Gil announced. “I hate to, but I must.” He reached to set his cup on a nearby table. “This has been a wonderful day—but it is time now for the closing ceremony.”
Miss Dover rose and went to get her Bible from a nearby shelf. Damaris felt her heartbeat quicken, as it invariably did at the sight of the book.
Miss Dover passed it over to Gil and he turned quickly to the page he sought. The story he read was of the first Christmas and the birth of the Christ Child. Damaris leaned forward as she drank in the words. They seemed so—so powerful, so full of wonder. She longed to believe them, to accept them as truth.
When Gil finished the account, he laid aside the Bible and closed his eyes. Damaris continued to stare as he spoke words of recognition and thanksgiving for the love that prompted the events of long ago. Suddenly realizing that he was praying, Damaris ducked her head and shut her eyes tightly. She had never heard anyone pray before. Something within her stirred at the sacredness of the moment. She felt as if she were walking across a newly scrubbed floor with dirty shoes. She squirmed, but even her discomfort could not keep her from straining to hear each word of the prayer.
Gil talked just as though he were speaking directly to God himself. Damaris had never heard anything like it in her entire life. You would have thought that Gil was best friends with the one to whom he was praying. And yet there was an earnestness, a hushed appreciation to his voice. Damaris could not understand it. This Gilwyn certainly was a strange individual. Peculiar. In her confusion, Damaris decided to give him a wide berth. She couldn’t understand him at all. Although she had enjoyed this day as part of the family, she did not wish to have him try to foist his strange ways upon her. She longed for the prayer to end so she could breathe more easily again.
It was not a long prayer, and Damaris soon had her wish, but even after the amen, the feeling of restlessness stayed with her.
Gil rose and placed the Bible carefully on the table.
“This has been good,” he said, “but the trail home is a long one.”
“I wish you could spend the night at the boardinghouse and take to the trail in the morning,” Miss Dover said wistfully. “I just hate to think of you out in the cold—in the dark.”
He brushed her cheek with his hand. “You worry too much, Mother,” he chided gently. “I’ll be fine.”
It was the first time Damaris had heard him call her Mother. Mother—not even Ma or Mama. It sounded nice. He spoke the word so naturally, and yet with such deep feeling. Damaris felt her heart stir with emotion. She rose to her feet to make the feeling pass more quickly.
“I’ll get your things,” said Miss Dover and she moved to retrieve his heavy wraps.
He accepted the coat and shrugged into it. Then he reached for the leather gloves. Before pulling them on, his hand went to a pocket and came out with a small packet.
“For you,” he said, passing the gift to Miss Dover and leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“Oh my!” she squealed, as excited as a child. Her cheeks flushed as she unwrapped the gift. “Combs,” she bubbled. “New combs. Oh, I just love them. Look at them, Damaris. Aren’t they beautiful!” She took his face in both of her hands and placed a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek. “Thank you, my dear. Thank you so much.”