The Christmas Bargain (34 page)

“Leave Luke out of this, Pa,” Filly said, standing straight and tall, glaring at her father. “None of this is his fault. None of this is my fault. It’s all you. You are nothing but a mean, sorry, pitiful drunk who chooses to live a despicable life.”

Alford backhanded her before anyone could blink. Filly caught herself before she fell to the floor. Luke started to rush forward, but Alford waved his gun menacingly his direction.

“Shut yer trap and keep it shut,” Alford ordered. “I mean to get somethin’ for my troubles, and I’m not leavin’ until I do.”

“Put the gun down, Pa. Just put it down and we’ll all forget this happened,” Filly said, walking slowly toward him again.

Something in her had changed. Filly was no longer afraid of her father. Luke could see it in her eyes and the way she stood. He was terrified she was going to try to wrestle the gun away from the drunk. The way he saw it, he had one chance to tackle Alford and take the gun before he shot somebody. 

While Filly was talking, she sent Luke a pleading look. She wanted him to stay back, but it wasn’t in him to stand by while the woman he loved put herself in danger on his behalf.

“Pa, what would Mama say if she could see you? Do you think she’d be pleased at the person you’ve become? Do you think she’d approve of your lying and drinking and abuse? Do you think she would love a man who beats his daughter, cheats his neighbors and holds people at gunpoint?” Filly said, watching her words sink into her father’s drunken mind. He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge the questions. Luke took the opportunity to edge around the desk. Inching slowly forward, he hoped to get to Filly before her father did something they would all regret.

Motioning his head at Greg, Luke hoped he would sneak outside and go for help. His dad seemed to understand what he was trying to communicate and slowly worked his way toward the door.

Filly was once again standing next to her father, her hand hovering above his arm, hesitant to touch him. “Pa, do you remember when Mama was alive, how happy we all were, how much you loved us. You were such a good papa then. Do you remember?”

Alford seemed to be struggling, whether it was to remember or forget, Luke didn’t know, but he watched as the drunk closed his eyes and swayed on his feet, giving Greg time to quietly sneak out the door.  Filly glanced up and watched him hug Dora, then look down the street. He didn’t move, so Filly assumed help must be on the way.

Opening his eyes, Alford yelled, “No!” and swung the gun around wildly. “Don’t want to remember, hurts too much. I’ve warned ya enough, gal, to shut yer trap. Ya never did know when to be quiet. I’m tired of hearin’ yer jawing. I’ll shut ya up once and for all.”

Alford pulled back the trigger and aimed the gun at Filly. Luke launched himself at his wife, planning to take the bullet for her, at the same moment the door burst open with a deputy running inside followed by Chauncy. Alford swiveled in surprise and the gun discharged.

“No, Alford!” Luke yelled.  “What have you done?”

Chapter Twenty

Pulling his watch out of his pocket, Luke glanced at the time and snapped the lid shut. Getting up from the table, he looked around the kitchen. It seemed so empty without Filly’s bright spirit.

 “We better get going if we’re going to make it to the service on time,” Dora said, patting his arm as she and Greg also stood from the table.

“I suppose so,” Luke said, lingering by the door, lost in his thoughts.

“Good gracious, with those long faces you look as if we’re heading to a funeral instead of Christmas Eve services,” Filly said as she breezed into the room. Following the afternoon’s excitement, she had to hurry to get dinner on the table and the kitchen set to rights before the church service.

Taking a moment to run upstairs, she changed her dress and repinned her hair before they left. Stuffing her arms into the sleeves of the coat Luke held for her, she looked at Greg and Dora with a smile. “Don’t we need to get going?”

Luke drank in the sight of her, grateful for the hundredth time in the last few hours that she was alive and unhurt. He wasn’t sure what had transpired today inside Filly, but the spirit he had glimpsed on occasion had burst out of confinement and transformed his wife into the person she was always meant to be - a vibrant, shining light.

Earlier that afternoon, when the deputy and Chauncy burst into the bank, Alford’s bullet grazed the deputy’s arm and shattered the glass in the door. Chauncy tackled Alford before he could do any more damage and helped the deputy haul him off to jail. Alford was sobbing uncontrollably as they took them away, begging Filly to forgive him. She assured him she did, and promised to come visit him if he would stay sober.

“But Filly, your father,” Dora said, looking sad and contrite. “I…you must…I’m so sorry, dear girl.”

“I’m sorry I told you my father was dead, but he has been dead to me all these years. Maybe now, if he sobers up and stays that way, I can have my papa back again.” Filly took Dora’s hands in her own, still surprised over the supportive way her mother-in-law had reacted to the afternoon’s events. Filly assumed once Dora knew about her father, the woman would dislike her even more. Instead, Dora had wrapped Filly up in a mother’s loving arms and offered her encouragement.

 “No need for all this gloom, especially on Christmas Eve,” Filly said with a tender glance at the three Grangers, who stood staring at her in surprise. “Look what a gift I’ve been given by Luke. Not only do I have a wonderful husband, who would willingly save my life with his own, but a new mother and a father. I don’t see a thing to be sad about this evening, Mother Granger. This is a night for rejoicing and miracles.”

Dora brushed at the tears on her cheeks and pulled Filly into a genuine hug. “I think you better just call me mother, dear.”

“I’d like that very much.” Filly kissed her cheek and hugged her back. “Now let’s go to church. Chauncy might scold us if we show up late.”

Luke cleared his throat and smiled at his wife with the depths of his love for her filling his eyes. “You heard the woman, let’s go.”

Dora walked out of the house wearing Filly’s best hat, since her hat was destroyed that afternoon. When Greg heard the gun discharge, he threw Dora to the ground and covered her body with his own. In some mysterious turn of events that no one could or would explain, Dora’s hat was torn loose from her head and somehow sailed into the street where a passing wagon ran over it. Percy made a valiant effort to rescue it, but the hat was beyond saving.

Luke had a very good idea how the hat met its demise, but he wouldn’t ever mention it, especially when Greg fought to hide a grin every time Dora lamented the loss of her beloved hat.

Walking down the sidewalk, Filly insisted they link arms and led them in a rousing chorus of  “Joy to the World.” Arriving at the church full of laughter and good cheer, Chauncy greeted them with a happy smile at the door.

“How good it is to see each one of you here tonight,” Chauncy said, giving the men handshakes and the women hugs. “That is a smart looking hat, Mrs. Granger.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dora said, patting her hair. “Is there a place left to sit by Abby. I would dearly love to hold that baby.”

“She saved seats in the front row,” Chauncy said with a smile, winking at Luke.

Chauncy’s sermon was simple and heartfelt reminding those in attendance of the reason the holiday season is celebrated. He encouraged them to give “gifts of love” not only at Christmas, but throughout the year, to keep the season alive in their hearts.

After his message, the children of the church performed a Christmas program. Percy was Joseph while the little Jenkins girl portrayed Mary. The two of them sat carefully watching baby Erin, who slept through her first performance, playing baby Jesus in her cradle. No mice were turned loose, although the sheep got away from a shepherd and ran down the aisle bleating toward the door, which brought a round of jolly laughter from the congregation.

Following the program, those attending partook of the treats brought by the women while everyone buzzed about the shooting earlier in the day. Many still didn’t make the connection between Alford and Filly, and Luke thought it was fine to keep it that way. He didn’t want people judging her for what her father had done.  He wanted them to love her for the wonderful woman she was.

Among the last to leave, the Grangers helped Chauncy and Abby straighten the church before bundling up to go home. Just as they were heading out the door, Abby handed Filly a lidded basket with a wink. “Don’t forget this.”

“Thanks for keeping it, Abby.” Filly said, swinging the basket out of Luke’s reach when he stretched over to take the handles in his hand. “You stay out of my basket.”

“What’s in there?” Luke asked, growing more curious the closer they walked toward home. “Is it something for me? Something to eat?”

Filly laughed, and the sound warmed Luke from the inside out. “I should hope not.”

“Come on, let me take a peek?” Luke said, pretending to grab for the basket.

Ignoring his antics, Filly turned to Dora. “Was he this terrible as a little boy?”

“Worse,” Dora said with a stoic expression on her face, making them all laugh.

Arriving home, they took off their coats and hats and gathered in the parlor. While Luke and Greg stoked up the fire and lit the candles on the tree, Filly took her basket to the kitchen and placed the sleeping puppy in a large box padded with an old blanket she had set up in the room they used to dry laundry. Since there wasn’t anything hanging in there, it would make a perfect spot to hide the dog for the night. She hoped the box was deep enough he wouldn’t be able to climb out of it. Setting a saucer of water and a bone from the roast in the box with him, she shut the door and fixed a tray with treats.

Carrying it into the parlor, she set the tray on the low table by the couch and smiled, so pleased to see how festive Granger House looked.

“The tree is magnificent,” Filly said, clasping her hands beneath her chin. Luke turned off the gaslights so the only light in the room came from the big fireplace and the candles on the tree.

Taking filled glasses from the tray, Luke passed them around and proposed a toast. “To Filly, who has made our holiday jolly and bright, and this house a home.”

“To Filly!” Dora and Greg echoed the sentiment.

Filly blushed and smiled. “Thank you, thank you all.”

Licking her lips, Dora turned to Filly. “This is delicious. I haven’t had raspberry shrub for years and years. My mother sometimes made it when I was a girl.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Filly said, setting down her drink to pass around the pie. “My Mama used to make it, too.”

“I think we should have it every Christmas Eve,” Greg said, draining his glass of the sweet, yet tart drink.  “It could be a new tradition.”

“What traditions did your family have, Filly?” Dora asked. “Luke tells us your mother was Irish. Do you have any special Irish traditions?”

“The two my Mama always made sure to honor were leaving a candle in the window, which we would light for a while on Christmas Eve. Luke, will you light ours?” Filly asked and Luke complied, quickly returning to his seat next to Filly on the couch.

“You said you had two traditions you honored. What’s the second?” Luke asked.

“Mama always left a loaf of bread baked with seeds and raisins on the table, along with a pitcher of milk and a candle. She would leave the door unlocked, so that a weary traveler might find refreshment and welcome. She said it symbolized Mary and Joseph’s trip to Bethlehem,” Filly explained. “What about the Grangers? What traditions do you always follow?”

Filly and Luke had discussed some of them, but she wanted to hear what his parents thought of as family traditions.

“We always open our presents Christmas morning instead of Christmas Eve, much to Luke’s dismay,” Dora said, finishing the last bite of her apple pie and setting the plate back on the tray. “We usually sing carols and eat treats Christmas Eve. Quite often we are gone visiting and don’t get home until late.”