Sea of Christmas Miracles (7 page)

“Are you certain that’s enough?”

Devon draped his arm around his wife’s
shoulders and gave her a quick kiss. “If we pile anything else on
that wagon the horses won’t be able to pull it.”

Margaret had to agree with Thomas’s father.
He was a large man, handsome, with brown hair and green eyes. That
his son favored him wasn’t the only reason Margaret liked him.
“Really,” she said, smiling down at them from the wagon seat. “This
is enough... more than enough. I never imagined...” Margaret looked
across the seat at Thomas, unable to continue.

“She’d only been able to purchase the
children some peppermints,” he explained.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Felicity turned to her
oldest granddaughter, a redheaded beauty named Alice. “Run inside
and fetch that basket of oranges off the hall table.”

“Now, Mother, we don’t want to take
everything.”

“Don’t say another word, Thomas Blackstone.
You know very well, we’re giving what we want to give. Isn’t that
right, children?”

To a one they agreed, but Margaret wasn’t
sure Merry and Andrew’s younger offspring weren’t voicing what
their elders expected from them. Still, each of the children had
voluntarily given up one toy to be taken to the orphanage.

While they were packing those on the wagon,
the older Blackstones rummaged through their wardrobes, looking for
blankets and scarves, and warm woolen hats. Felicity had entered
her larder like a general waging war. When she emerged, there were
hams and flour and enough rice to feed the children till
Eastertide.

“Are you sure you won’t stay the night and
start off first thing in the morning? It will be dark before you
reach the King plantation.”

“We’ll be fine, Mother.” Thomas lifted the
reins to start the horses, then stopped. Handing them over to
Margaret he jumped from the seat. He hugged his mother first, then
his father. Merry was next and Andrew. Then he went down the line
of nieces and nephews.

Ten-year-old Ben preferred a handshake to a
hug, but Thomas ruffled his blond hair anyway. “I’m sure the paints
will be much appreciated.”

“As will the doll.” Alice was more than happy
to hug him.

The twins, Janey and Jean, had given up the
dollhouse built by their grandfather. Devon confided to Thomas that
he was starting on another the following morning. Thomas was
equally determined to replace all the toys given up by his sister’s
children. But for now he allowed them to bask in the unselfish
emotion of helping someone less fortunate than themselves.

Five-year-old John jumped into his arms when
Thomas approached him. “You’ll tell those children I’ll come and
play with them, won’t you?”

“I will,” Thomas assured. “Then they can
thank you in person for the hoop.”

“Some little girl will just love the rag
doll, Nancy,” Thomas told his three-year-old niece.

“Betsy... her name is Betsy.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them.”

The youngest child was in leading strings and
hadn’t voluntarily given up anything, but Thomas lifted him up all
the same. “Merry Christmas to you, Master Stephen,” he said, while
breathing in his sweet baby smell.

After handing the child to his mother, Thomas
leaped onto the wagon and started the horses down the lane. “You
will be back, won’t you,” his mother called after them.

Thomas glanced at Margaret, but she didn’t
meet his gaze. She was too busy thanking everyone. “I’ll come
home,” Thomas yelled.

It was well after dark when they reached the
old King plantation. Even by the light of the moon, Thomas could
tell the place had seen better days. Since the carpetbagger had
taken the property over, he’d given it very little thought... that
is until he decided it would do for his mill.

He reined the horses to a stop in front of
the door and shook Margaret gently. She fell asleep a mile or so
back, and he’d draped his arm around her, pulling her close to his
side.

They hadn’t really had a chance to talk since
he kissed her in the library, but Thomas had done his share of
thinking... and planning. All he needed to do was share his ideas
with Margaret.

She looked up giving him a sleepy smile and
Thomas couldn’t help pressing his lips to hers. He would have
deepened the kiss if not for the Negro woman who opened the front
door. She held a lantern in one hand and a shotgun in the other.
Luckily she recognized Margaret, who jumped off the wagon seat
before Thomas could help her down.

“It’s all right, Grace. It’s only me. And
this is Mister Blackstone.”

“Mistah
Thomas
Blackstone?” The woman
seemed very surprised.

“Yes, and we have such lovely things for the
children’s Christmas. Are they in bed?”

“Each and every one ’a them. What happened to
you? Iz been worried.”

“I’ll explain later. For now will you bring
the lantern so we can see?”

“Don’t know what good the light’s gonna do
you. You’re as blind as a bat without them spectacles. Now just
how’d you go and lose them?”

“It’s a long story.” Margaret looked toward
Thomas and smiled. “But I assure you, I can see all I need to.”

It was near midnight by the time the wagon
was unloaded and the toys spread beneath a pine sapling Grace had
cut and brought into the drafty parlor. Still, Margaret insisted on
fixing Thomas something to eat.

“I’m only a passable cook, but I can fry up
ham.”

Thomas leaned back in a kitchen chair,
enjoying watching her move around the room. The smell of ham
mingled with the citrusy scent of the oranges on the table. “Do you
fix the meals for the children?”

“I help, but that’s Grace’s job.” Margaret
looked down at the ham curling up in the iron skillet. “I sent her
to bed because she seemed tired.” Margaret shut her eyes when she
felt his hands on her arms.

“Here I hoped it was because you wanted to be
alone with me!” Thomas brushed his lips across her hair.

“Why are you doing this?” Margaret didn’t
want him to stop the wonderful things he did to her with his hands
and mouth, but she had to know.

“It was more my family than me.”

Margaret shot a look over her shoulder that
told him exactly what she thought of that explanation.

Thomas grinned. “Maybe I didn’t like you
thinking I didn’t have a heart.”

“I—” His fingers on her lips stopped her from
refuting her earlier assumption.

“Because then I couldn’t tell you how you’ve
stolen it.”

Margaret turned in his arms, the ham
forgotten. “What?”

“I’m trying to say...” Thomas took a deep
breath. “I’m in love with you, Margaret Lewis.” He searched her
face for some kind of reaction. “I realize this is sudden and you
probably don’t feel the same, but—”

“I do. I mean I love you, too, but I just
don’t understand—”

His lips cut off the rest of her words. When
he had to break the contact or give up breathing, he trailed his
mouth toward her ear. “This is very new to me, but I do know that
love is something that you don’t have to understand. It just
happens.”

Behind her the ham sizzled, forgotten until
the smell of burning meat was too obvious for even their eager
kisses to cover up. After Thomas dragged the iron skillet from the
stove, he and Margaret decided they weren’t hungry after all... at
least not for food.

Margaret took Thomas’s hand and led him
upstairs to the room at the far end of the hall. It was cold,
though neither noticed as they fell onto the bed together.

“You will marry me, won’t you?” Thomas’s head
was propped on his open palm. The fingers of his other hand traced
an imaginary line between Margaret’s breasts. It was barely dawn
and they’d made love and slept and awakened to make love again. He
felt replete, wonderful, and thoroughly in love.

“Are you sure you want me? I
am
a
kidnapper.” Her smile was teasing, and matched his.

“You may kidnap me anytime.” He leaned
forward brushing his lips against hers, then straightened quickly.
“Was that a yes?”

Her sigh was long and heartfelt. Before he
could see the tears glistening in her eyes she turned her head
away. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She hurried on
before he could voice the argument she knew he would have. “I’m not
the kind of woman you deserve as a wife. The orphanage is very
important to me.”

“I don’t recall asking you to give it
up.”

She twisted her head to look at his
expression.

“If anything I planned to help you with it.
All I ask is that you live with me, for I don’t want to be without
you.”

“But I have very strong beliefs... about
women’s suffrage, and—”

“I admire that about you.” Thomas splayed his
hand to cover the tips of her breasts. “Among other things.” His
grin faded. “Don’t you want to marry me, Maggie?”

“Oh yes, more than anything, but—” His
fingers covered her lips, silencing her.

“Then we won’t worry about anything else. My
father once told me that the Blackstone men were strong because of
the women they marry. His grandmother told him that. I think it’s
true. And I think you’ll make it true for me.”

Thomas cuddled her close on the chilly
Christmas morning. “We’ll work things out. We have love, Maggie.
And that’s the greatest miracle of all.”

“God’s blood, I couldn’t have handled that
better myself.”

“Jack?” When he heard the voice Thomas bolted
to sitting in the bed, pulling his sleep-tousled bride-to-be with
him.

“Who’s Jack? What’s wrong, Thomas?” Margaret
gently brushed a lock of dark hair from his forehead.

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Thomas studied her concerned face in the
grainy morning light. “You didn’t...? I mean... A pirate...?” With
each word he uttered she appeared more bewildered. Thomas took a
deep breath, then he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
Together they settled back against the pillow. “I must have been
dreaming,” he murmured. But in his heart he knew the truth.