Hometown Cinderella: Hometown Cinderella\The Inn at Hope Springs (20 page)

Mara watched out of the corner of her eye as Lizzie took her father’s overcoat, gloves, scarf and sealskin cap. When he sat at the foot of the kitchen table, Mara brought him a mug of coffee and set the pitcher of cream beside it. “Sugar?”

He shook his head with a brief smile. “This’ll be fine. Thank you.” He wrapped his large hands around the mug. “Nice to have something hot. It sure is raw outdoors.”

“How was your trip?” she asked when she took her seat at the other end of the table, making an effort to keep her hands still. Lizzie sat between them with her own teacup and saucer and was busy serving herself a spoonful of sugar. “Aren’t you having any, Mrs. Keller?”

“In a bit.”

“I hope we’re not interrupting your work,” Mr. Jakeman said with a nod toward the ironing board.

“Oh, I have the whole afternoon to work on my pile. I was looking forward to hearing about your trip to Bangor.” It was amazing how good it was to see him. Just looking at his face was like nectar to her parched soul. How could she feel so needy of someone in such a short time?

His expression was open. She felt with him that the person he presented to the world was the same he was in private. There were no hidden flaws or sins. But she had been fooled before. Her glance went to Lizzie. But this man’s daughter attested to his upright character. She adored her father.

“It was good. I don’t go in much for shopping and such, but Lizzie had a good time.”

Mara smiled. “We women usually do. I didn’t realize Christmas will soon be upon us.”

“Will you be doing anything special for the holidays?” he asked before taking a sip of coffee, continuing to watch her over the rim.

She looked down at the table. “No. I don’t believe Carina does much but, you know, with Dietrich, I’d like to make the holiday special.”

“Of course. Children tend to get all worked up at the notion of presents.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

She nodded, warmed by the understanding in his eyes.

“I love Christmas,” Lizzie said. “I usually make all my gifts, and start weeks, sometimes months, in advance, to make sure I have enough time, especially if it means knitting or embroidering something.”

“Yes, indeed. I really must think about things like that. Not that I have that many people to give gifts to. I haven’t been here that long.”

“We don’t put much stock in gifts,” Gideon said right away. Was he trying to allay any worry she might have that she had to give them gifts? “Reverend Grayson has a nice service Christmas morning and then Lizzie makes a good dinner. Sarah or one of my brothers always invites us over, but I kind of like to eat Christmas dinner at home. Sometimes, if the weather’s clear, we’ll go and visit afterward.”

Mara nodded and smiled. Whether he expected a gift or not, she certainly hoped she could give him and Lizzie some little token of her appreciation for all they’d done for her and Dietrich since she’d arrived.

Gideon drained the last of his coffee. Before Mara could offer him more, or a slice of cake or some of the oatmeal cookies she’d baked, he pushed back from his chair. “Well, I’d better tell you the reason we came by.”

A reason? She watched, her curiosity growing as he went to his overcoat and drew out a parcel from its capacious pocket. He set the brown-wrapped box in front of her and cleared his throat. “This is for you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “For me?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not even Christmas,” she attempted to joke to dispel the sense of panic welling up inside of her.

Gideon didn’t smile. Instead, he averted his gaze, motioning to the parcel. “Why don’t you open it?”

She looked at it, her heart thumping, then glanced at Lizzie, whose color was high and who was biting her lip as if to keep from smiling. She gestured with her chin, a gesture reminiscent of her father. “Go ahead, it’s not going to bite you.”

Mara gave a nervous laugh, feeling as if the description were accurate. “Very well.” Gingerly, she reached out and began to untie the string at its top. Her fingers fumbled, with Gideon standing so close to her, observing every move.

“Here, let me.” He reached out with a jackknife. In a second, he had sliced through the string and slid the package back to her.

“Th-thank you.” The string fell away as she picked up the box and unfolded the paper from it. She saw the logo of a store name on the top of the box before slowly lifting it. Newspaper filled it within.

She dug about for the object and lifted it, the newspaper falling away. She saw immediately that it was a teacup. Her heartbeat increased. Could it be—?

Her breath caught. It was her pattern! But no—

Gideon saw the moment she realized the cup was not an exact match to her own only because he was watching her so closely. There was a split second where her fine eyebrows drew together a fraction. The next instant her brow cleared and a smile lifted the corners of her lips as she glanced first at him then at Lizzie. “You shouldn’t have. How very thoughtful of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I know it’s not the same pattern but it was the closest we could find.” A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach, a sense of failure filling him.

She turned her blue eyes to him, her smile bright. “It looks so similar I can hardly tell them apart. Besides, it’s the thought that counts.” Her smile disappeared. “Please tell me you didn’t go all the way to Bangor to replace the cup?”

Lizzie answered before he had the chance to make some offhand remark about having to do a lot of errands. “That we did. It was Papa’s idea. Oh, but we had so much fun looking in all the stores that sold china. My, I never imagined there could be so many patterns.”

“Yes, I know.” Mara kept the cup cradled in her hands. “But this one is so pretty. I shall always treasure it, the more knowing it came from you.”

Lizzie blushed. “The clerk said he didn’t carry that French pattern, but he brought this one out. He said it’s English.”

She didn’t turn it over to read the bottom. “The English are well-known for their porcelain. It’s probably of finer quality than my set.”

Lizzie nodded toward the box. “We also got the saucer. The clerk told us they always sell them together.”

“I’m so sorry to have made you go to the expense.” As she spoke, Mara set down the cup and dug around in the remaining newspaper, carefully bringing out the saucer and unwrapping it. She then placed it on the table with the cup atop it. “It’s truly beautiful. I wish I could repay you somehow.”

Gideon released a slow breath, afraid for a moment she’d insist on paying for it. He realized she would never be so crass. “You’ve done a lot for us—for Lizzie—already. So, don’t go fretting about repayment.”

She glanced briefly at him with a small nod then stood from the table. “I’ll pour myself that cup of tea now in celebration.”

“May we see one of the original cups? It was hard to remember the exact shape with only the small piece we had.” Lizzie looked expectantly at Mara.

“Oh, I’m sure it looks very similar.”

Gideon removed the shard he had kept from his pocket. “Here’s the piece I took with me. I wanted to return it to you.”

She reached out for it, her fingers touching his palm briefly. “I wondered where it had got to.”

So, she must have tried to glue it back together. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it without permission. But I knew you were upset that day and I wanted to be able to have something to help me find a replacement.”

“It was so thoughtful of you,” she murmured, looking downward.

“Oh, please, Mrs. Keller, may I see one of your cups?”

Gideon could see Mara was reluctant but at Lizzie’s insistence, she merely gave a nod and left the kitchen with a quiet “Excuse me.”

She returned a moment later with one of the cups from the tea party and set it on the table. Lizzie immediately reached for it and held up both cups side by side. Her expectant face turned into a frown. “It doesn’t have the gold rim around it, and the handle is shaped slightly differently.”

“But it does look amazingly similar,” Mara countered.

He knew she was only trying to ease Lizzie’s disappointment. His daughter’s shoulders slumped. “I thought for sure it was the same.”

Mara put a hand on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. What matters to me is that you took so much time and trouble over a simple teacup. It’s just an object, but your thoughtfulness means more than I can say.”

Gideon hid his own feelings. He didn’t want to prolong the interview any longer, knowing it must be a strain for her to continue reassuring them that the cup was adequate. “Well, we’d better be off. Give our regards to Mrs. Blackstone. Tell Dietrich I missed seeing him. Maybe you could send him over tomorrow.”

“I certainly shall. I know he’s missed you.”

Their eyes met briefly at her last words and the question crossed his mind. Had
she
missed him over the past few days?

He grabbed his hat and coat from the door, shoving the hat on his head as if it would help displace such a ridiculous question. Why should a fine lady like Mara have missed him? He was as clumsy as an ox and hadn’t even been able to replace her treasured teacup.

Chapter Sixteen

D
ietrich entered the kitchen and shut the door behind him with a click. Mara smiled at him. He’d finally learned not to slam it behind him. “Hello, there. You look good and healthy.” His cheeks were rosy, his dark hair tousled as he drew off his woolen cap.

“I was outside with Mr. Jakeman. He took me in his sleigh up into one of the woodlots to show me where he’ll be cutting trees soon with Paul.”

Mara set down the potato and the paring knife she was holding. “I hope you didn’t ask him to let you accompany him then.”

Dietrich hung up his coat on the lower hook Mara had placed for him. “I did but he said not this year.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, mentally thanking Gideon for his good sense. “Put your mittens by the stove.”

He obeyed, spreading his cap, scarf and mittens on a rack standing near the woodstove.

“You can pour yourself a glass of milk or would you like a hot cup of tea with a cookie?”

“I’ll get some milk.”

A few minutes later, he came to sit beside her, a glass of milk and a large molasses cookie before him. “What’re you making?”

“Codfish cakes for supper.” She’d finished peeling the cold cooked potatoes and now began flaking the dried, salted cod she’d set to soak the night before.

“Yum-yum,” he said, rubbing his tummy.

After taking a bite of cookie and sip of milk, he turned to her. “Mama, when are we going to make Christmas decorations?”

Mara’s hands stilled in the large bowl. “Hmm. I’ve been so busy with piano lessons I haven’t had much time to think about Christmas.”

“Lizzie already has fir boughs all over their house. They smell so good.” He took a large sniff. “Better even than the ones you used to put in our house in Paris.”

“I imagine it’s because it’s balsam fir. It has about the nicest scent of all the evergreen trees.” She’d always made their sitting room, no matter how mean their boardinghouse, as festive as she could during the holidays. Perhaps because she’d married a man of German origin and had visited his family there a few times in the earlier years of their marriage, she’d grown to enjoy all the evergreen decorations for Christmas.

She’d loved the Christmas fairs in the German towns, where open-air stalls sold wooden decorations for the Christmas trees. And there was no prettier sight than the fir trees with their candles lit on Christmas Eve.

She wasn’t sure how much Dietrich remembered, since he’d been so young, but clearly he retained some vivid memories.

“Do you still have my nutcracker?”

Mara thought how to answer. A child would not understand how limited she’d been in what she’d been able to bring home. “No, dear, we weren’t able to bring it. I’m sorry. I only had enough space to pack your stuffed animal, your wooden train set and your clothes.”

His mouth turned downward. For a moment she wondered if he would cry. But instead he took another bite of his cookie. “Maybe I can get another one for Christmas.” His brown eyes twinkled over the rim of his glass.

Before she could reply, wondering if they even sold such types of nutcrackers in this part of the world, he continued. “Lizzie is making all kinds of Christmas presents. She says she has things hidden all over the house. She says she has something for me and you and says I’ll never guess.”

Mara focused on the codfish. She hadn’t planned on any gift giving. Carina had made it plain she didn’t want any evergreen boughs or a tree in the house.
We’ll be picking out fir needles all year long from between the floorboards.

Mara had only thought of making Dietrich some little token to acknowledge the day but hadn’t had much time to do so yet. But now she realized Christmas was only a little over a week away.

“What do you have for Lizzie and Mr. Jakeman?”

“I don’t have anything…yet,” she added. Maybe she’d have enough time to embroider a set of handkerchiefs, perhaps knit a pair of socks for Gideon and buy some little thing like a pair of hair combs for Lizzie. She felt her face grow warm at the notion of these practical things for Gideon, the kinds of things a wife would make for her husband.

Perhaps a box of fudge or some cookies would be better. She looked over at her son. “What do you want to give them?”

He scrunched up his face, chewing on his cookie. “I don’t know. Maybe some marbles for Mr. Jakeman? And a doll for Lizzie. Although she doesn’t play with dolls. She has a collection in her room, though. I’ve seen it. She keeps them all lined up in a row. She said her mama made her all of them. Every year for Christmas she’d get a new one, and a dress for the old one, she told me.”

Mara pictured the scene. What lovely memories and mementoes the girl must have of the late Mrs. Jakeman.

“Well, we’d better get busy, hadn’t we, thinking of something for the two of them? Maybe you can go into town with me one day this week and we can look in the shops.” She had enough saved up now to use a little on some more frivolous things. Gifts for those she cared about most.

Her thoughts returned to the teacup Lizzie and Gideon had gone all the way to Bangor for. Even though it wasn’t an exact match, their gesture had touched her deeply and made her realize how unused she was to having anyone do anything for her.

Had she become so bent on doing for herself that she’d forgotten how to receive?

Gideon was not content to rest on the matter of the broken teacup. As soon as he returned home that afternoon, he sat down and wrote to the address of the shop in Boston that the Bangor clerk had given him. The next morning, he posted his letter.

Waiting was never easy but Gideon prided himself on being a patient man. Planting and waiting for seeds to sprout and then tending them until harvest time developed patience in a person.

A person learned to read the signs in the sky and landscape.

Perhaps that’s what made him able to read the nuances in Mara’s face whenever he was in her presence. And cause him to spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about her when he wasn’t.

He sighed now as he straightened from chopping wood, setting down his ax a moment and rolling his shoulders. The sky had been low and gray all morning and now just past noon the first flakes began to fall against his face.

He hadn’t seen Mara in almost a week. Early winter was a time when folks tended to hunker down in their homes, getting prepared for the long months ahead as if for a siege. With Christmas in two days, people were busy with holiday preparations as well.

He’d tried to find out from Lizzie if the Kellers had any special plans. Mrs. Blackstone didn’t do much of anything, except go to church on Christmas morning and to dinner at his cousin’s house afterward. Cliff usually came by to take her to dinner, so Gideon didn’t have to.

Lizzie planned on baking a roast beef from the cow that had been slaughtered. They had plenty of potatoes, carrots, turnips, parsnips and onions in the root cellar, and Lizzie had canned dozens of jars of greens from the summer garden.

He looked down the road toward Mrs. Blackstone’s though it wasn’t visible from the bends in the road and forest separating the two properties.

On the spur of the moment, he walked toward the barn to put his ax away. Dietrich was inside with Lizzie. The boy usually spent afternoons after school with them. Lizzie had invited him inside today to bake sugar cookies for Christmas.

They looked up when he entered the kitchen. “How much longer are you going to be baking?”

Lizzie gestured at the tray of cookies in front of her on the table. “This is the last one.”

“I just wondered if you two wanted to go into the forest with me and cut some greens to deliver to Mrs. Blackstone and your mother, Dietrich?”

Dietrich jumped down from his chair, clapping his hands. “You mean a tree?”

He rubbed his chin, not bothering to remove his outer things. “Well, perhaps not a tree, but some branches to use as garlands and table decorations the way we have about the house here.” Lizzie had done a good job in the parlor and dining room, making everything look festive. The two of them had already found a tree in the forest and he’d cut it down yesterday and stood it in a bucket of water in the woodshed. Tomorrow they’d put it up.

Dietrich’s face fell and Gideon felt a spurt of compassion for the boy. “Maybe you could come over tomorrow and help us decorate our tree.”

His eyes widened. “Could I?”

“We’ll ask your mother. Well, what do you say? You want to come along with me in a little while and bring back some greens when you go home? It’s just starting to snow, but we should be back before it gets too thick.”

Dietrich nodded his head with vigor.

“Sounds perfect, Papa,” Lizzie added. “We’ll be along in a bit and even bring you some cookies.”

He smiled and winked at his daughter. “I’ll hold you to that!”

About an hour later they set out. Gideon took them upcountry across the road to a place where he’d been felling trees so there would be lots of fallen branches on the snow.

Lizzie raised her face toward the sky. “I love the forest when it snows. Everything’s so quiet and peaceful.”

Dietrich stuck his tongue out to catch snowflakes. “Mmm. They taste good.”

Lizzie and Gideon chuckled.

“I imagine all the animals tucked away in their nests or hideaways sleeping,” Lizzie said, bending over and scooping up a handful of snow. “No good for snowballs. It’s not wet enough.”

Gideon nodded, eyeing his surroundings. “The temperature’s dropping.” He stopped at the clearing. “Here we are. I brought some clippers. Let’s get our greens and head back. I want to get you home, Dietrich, before it worsens.”

“Are we going to have a snowstorm, Mr. Jakeman?”

Gideon loped off a thick balsam branch. “Looks that way, son.”

It was midafternoon, the sky already darkening when they left the forest, carrying their bundles of evergreen boughs. “We’ll go straight to your house, Dietrich. Your mother’ll be expecting you home anyway.”

They marched the rest of the way in silence. Even Dietrich was subdued, probably with the cold. Gideon’s toes and fingers felt stiff, the only part of his face visible above his scarf and below his sealskin cap was chapped from the frigid air. As soon as they left the forest, the wind from off the coast hit them, making it seem several degrees colder.

Soon, the lights from Mrs. Blackstone’s house appeared. As if by mutual accord, they picked up their pace as they headed toward the long drive. Gideon couldn’t help but think that Mara might invite him and Lizzie in for something hot to drink.

It would probably be awkward with Mrs. Blackstone there. He didn’t know why it should be. He’d never been on excessively friendly terms with her. She’d seemed to hold herself reserved from those of the hamlet as if she considered herself a bit better. That had never prevented her from accepting their help when she’d become a widow.

Gideon admired his cousin for faithfully inviting Mrs. Blackstone to all the major holiday dinners as well as to many a Sunday dinner after church, even though the two didn’t have much to talk about. But Sarah was a good Christian and felt it part of that duty to “look after the orphans and widows.” That’s what kept Gideon doing any outside work for Mrs. Blackstone when there was more than Paul could manage on his own.

But since Mara and her son’s arrival, Gideon sensed a deeper reserve, even a coldness, in the older lady’s behavior toward her husband’s only living family. Gideon shook his head, finding it hard to fathom.

He hefted the bundle of greens in his hand, glad to soon be able to set it down.

They finally reached the woodshed door. Dietrich yanked it open with his free hand. Stopping him by the shoulder, Gideon held him back from rushing inside. “Hold up there. Ladies first, remember.”

Dietrich stepped away from the doorway.

Lizzie swept passed him, holding her skirts aloft like a grand lady in a hoop skirt. “Thank you, sir.”

Gideon then gave Dietrich a pat on the back, sending him in next. “Get along with you before your mother gets anxious. Put your boughs near Lizzie’s bundle.”

His own heartbeat quickening a notch or two in anticipation of seeing Mara, Gideon came in last and closed and latched the door behind him. “Stamp your boots good before going into the kitchen.”

Lizzie opened the kitchen door, sending a shaft of light into the dim shed. “Hallo!” She called out as she entered. “Mrs. Keller? Mrs. Blackstone?”

Dietrich ran ahead of her. “I’m home, Mama!”

Gideon set down his bundle atop the others then approached the step up onto the threshold to the kitchen, stopping short when Mrs. Blackstone entered the kitchen. “Good evening, ma’am,” he said, lifting his cap.

“I didn’t expect you. I thought it was Mara.”

Gideon stared at her. “Mrs. Keller’s not home?” Who would be out on an afternoon like today?

“No.” Mrs. Blackstone entered farther into the kitchen, motioning with an arm. “Come in, please, before you let in all the cold air.”

“Sorry about that.” Gideon hurried in and shut the door behind him. The kitchen felt like a warm bath after the frigid air. Before he could ask anything more about Mara’s whereabouts, Dietrich spoke.