The Christmas Bargain (4 page)

Luke sat watching her, surprised by her obvious pleasure in something as simple as a hot biscuit. How deprived had her life been with Alford? Luke wasn’t all that sure he wanted to know.

Despite his better judgment, Luke found himself caring about Philamena. He spent most of the night awake wondering about how her father had treated her and what he could do to make her life a little easier. Sure, he planned to have her cook and clean, but he would treat her kindly, respectfully, and honorably. Even if she would be a wife in name only, he would handle her with care.

He had no delusion that he would fall in love with her. She was plain, malnourished and quite clearly frightened of men. That was fine with Luke. He had no intention of ever falling in love and most certainly no plans of  marrying because he was besotted with some woman who would eventually make his life miserable.

Gazing at the Booth girl across the table, he was glad to see she left the rag off her head. Her hair was peeled back into such a tight bun, she might as well have been bald. Despite the unbecoming style, some part of Luke was grateful to see her hair was a beautiful shade of mahogany. It reminded him of the curving mahogany staircase at his home. Picturing Philamena’s hair down and gleaming in the firelight, Luke would have bet his best pair of boots it would spark with gold and red highlights.

Suddenly his hands itched to pull out the pins from her hair and see what it looked like down. Yanking those notions to an abrupt halt, he was annoyed he let his thoughts wander so far off course. Turning his attention back to his breakfast, Luke carried on a conversation with Chauncy about the bank, the church, some of the neighbors, and the weather.

Abby encouraged Philamena to help herself to more than the meager serving on her plate. She finally accepted a second biscuit and another helping of eggs.

Finishing his breakfast, Chauncy and Luke walked out together, leaving Abby and Philamena alone in the cozy kitchen.

“Once we wash the dishes and start lunch, we can head over to my shop and see about getting you a new wardrobe,” Abby said, hefting herself to her feet.

“Please, Mrs. Dodd, sit while I do the dishes. It’s the least I can do,” Philamena said, springing into action. Before Abby could protest, Philamena had soap shaved into the dishpan and the dishes soaking.

“If you insist, but only because I feel like I’ve got a barrel strapped to my waist and clubs for feet,” Abby said with a chuckle. “And you must call me Abby.”

“Thank you…Abby,” Philamena said, offering the barest hint of a smile. She looked up and made eye contact with Abby, who gave her a huge grin.

“Why, I declare,” Abby gasped in surprise. “You’ve got the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Philamena blushed and went back to washing dishes. Finally, she said, “My mother had green eyes.”

“She must have been a very beautiful woman,” Abby said, drinking the last sip of her coffee.

“She was,” Philamena said, scrubbing a skillet without looking up.

“You know, I’m going to have my tongue tied in knots calling you Miss Philamena Booth. Since I feel like we’re already friends, may I call you Philamena? Would you mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Philamena said, drying the dishes.  She kept her head down as she spoke and her cheeks turned pink. “I’d like being friends.”

Abby lumbered up from the table and gave Philamena a hug around her thin shoulders. “Let’s put on a pot of stew for lunch. It’s going to be chilly today and that will taste good with a pan of cornbread, don’t you think? We can leave it on the back of the stove while we go over to my dress shop.”

“You have your own store?” Philamena asked as she helped put vegetables into a pot of broth with chunks of rich smelling beef.

“I sure do. I’ve been a seamstress since I was old enough to hold a needle. I had a store in Kansas where I grew up and when my folks died, my cousin and I decided to head out West. She fell in love on the train ride out here and ended up staying in Idaho with her new husband, but I decided to come on to Hardman and see what was available. I not only found the perfect store, but the perfect man for me,” Abby said, looking around the kitchen, surprised at how quickly Philamena set everything to rights. “Let me get a couple of my shawls and we’ll run over to the store.”

While Philamena wiped off the table, Abby disappeared and came back with an extra shawl, handing it to Philamena. Wrapping it around her narrow shoulders, Philamena reveled in both the softness and warmth it offered.

Opening the door, Abby waited for Philamena to step outside before joining her. As they walked past the church, Abby waved at the building, then grinned at Philamena.

“I never know if he’s looking out the windows or not, but at least Chauncy knows I waved if he was,” Abby said, tipping her head toward Philamena conspiratorially.

Philamena couldn’t help but smile at Abby.

They walked down the street and stopped two doors down from the mercantile where a window display featured a rich brown and cream striped gown with a beautiful cream-colored shawl, fancy brown shoes and a hat bedecked with peacock feathers. Philamena let out a sigh as she looked dreamily in the window.

“Like it?” Abby asked, observing Philamena’s perusal of the items in the window as she took a key from her reticule and unlocked the door. “I can’t wait for you to try on a few things.”

The few things Abby wanted Philamena to try on turned out to be more like two dozen different dresses in a variety of styles.

It didn’t take long for Abby to decide what styles and colors looked best on her new friend. As Philamena tried clothes on, Abby either shook her head or clapped her hands in delight and started making notes and pinning in alterations. The entire time, Abby kept Philamena away from the big cheval mirror in the corner. When she was finished with Philamena, she could look, but not until her makeover was complete.

“I don’t know what Mr. Granger has planned,” Philamena finally said, “but I’m sure one dress would suffice.”

Abby laughed and continued fitting a beautiful burgundy silk gown to Philamena’s tall figure. Hoping that Philamena would fill out once she began eating better, Abby was leaving wide seams that could be let out later.

“Luke will want you to have everything you need to be a banker’s wife. I intend to see you properly outfitted.”

“Oh,” was all Philamena could manage to say, as her thoughts tumbled through her head. She had no business being a banker’s wife. Her skills when it came to being a gracious hostess or socializing were practically nonexistent.

 Other than at harvest time when the threshing crew came to help cut their wheat, the only person she’d been around in the last dozen years was her pa. He drank, ate, yelled at her, and slept. On the rare occasions when he was somewhat sober, he attempted to farm. If they had any money, he went to town and spent it all at the saloon.

She grew all their vegetables, canning and preserving what she could during the summer and fall months.  Their once robust herd of cattle was now a handful of spindly cows. Pa butchered one a year and that beef had to last them for a good long time. Philamena learned to stay out of his way, be quiet, and keep the house as neat and clean as possible.

A good cook and efficient housekeeper, Philamena was hopeful she wouldn’t be an overwhelming burden to Mr. Granger as she worked to pay off her father’s debt. Failing to grasp why she had to marry him for the bargain to be carried through, Philamena decided to worry about that another day.

Abby could see the doubts flitting across Philamena’s face and patted her hand. “Now, don’t you worry. Luke is a wonderful man and he’ll take good care of you. I don’t know much about your situation, Philamena, but I know you have new friends in me, Chauncy, and Luke, so don’t be fearful. As my husband would say, trust in the Lord and leave it at that.”

Philamena nodded her head, considering what Abby said.

Glancing at the clock, Abby gasped. “My gracious, we’ll have to hurry home for lunch. After my required afternoon nap, we’ll work on altering these gowns. Tomorrow, my new friend, we’ll really be busy.”

In the whirlwind she was coming to think of as Abby, Philamena soon found herself back in her plain dirt-colored dress, bundled up and walking down the sidewalk to the parsonage, carrying a huge basket filled with dresses that needed altered.

Stepping inside the Dodd’s cozy home, the delicious beefy smell of the stew greeted them. The kitchen was warm and homey and inviting. Philamena could see why Luke found it so appealing. Chauncy was setting down three place settings at the table as they came in the door.

“Have a fun morning, girls?” he asked, helping Abby off with her shawl and kissing her cheek.

“We certainly did,” Abby said, washing her hands. She took a pan of cornbread from the cupboard and put it in the oven to warm. “How was your morning?”

“Fine,” Chauncy said, pouring three cups of steaming coffee. “I saw two lovely ladies outside the church window and one was good enough to wave at me.”

Abby grinned and gave Philamena a look that said, “I told you so.”

Philamena carried the stew pot to the table and Chauncy stuck in a ladle. “We keep things pretty simple around here. Hope you don’t mind,” he said with a smile.

“Not at all,” Philamena said, almost daring herself to look into the pastor’s face, but not yet ready.

They were soon seated at the table and Chauncy again gave thanks for the meal. Abby continued to encourage Philamena to eat, which she did reluctantly. Finally, Abby couldn’t hold her tongue.

“Philamena, honey, we’ve got an abundance of food and I want you to enjoy it. If you want a second, or even a third helping of anything, you go right ahead and take it. You eat your fill. There’s no need for you to go hungry or take such small helpings.”

Keeping her head down, Philamena slowly nodded in agreement. When Chauncy passed the plate of cornbread, she took another slice and buttered it. Then, surprising herself with her boldness, she added a large dollop of berry jam. Chauncy grinned and Abby smiled, but neither said anything. They were making progress with their guest.

After lunch, Philamena insisted on doing the dishes while Abby took a nap. Chauncy returned to his office at the church, leaving Philamena alone in the kitchen.

Drying the last dish and putting it away, Philamena decided to save Abby some work later and put on a roast for dinner. Abby mentioned it was what she had planned for the evening meal. Adding carrots and potatoes to the pan and placing it in the oven to bake throughout the afternoon, Philamena found a container of yeast and had bread rising on the warming shelf of the oven in no time. It felt so good to knead the bread and inhale the rich, yeasty scent. She could hardly wait to eat a piece, hot from the oven, slathered with butter.

Taking the basket of dresses in the front room, Philamena sat by the fire Chauncy stoked before he went back to the church and threaded a needle. Warmed by the fire and full of good food, she felt herself growing drowsy, but she kept on stitching.

Her mind could hardly grasp the notion that she was no longer imprisoned by her father and treated like a slave. In less than twenty-four hours, she found herself among kind, loving people who had made her feel welcome. They didn’t look down their nose at her shabby clothes and tattered state. Instead, they offered her food, shelter and friendship. Tears clogged her throat and stung the backs of her eyes.

There was nothing she could ever do to repay the Dodds, or Luke Granger, for what they had given her. Freedom was beyond a price. As was friendship.

Finishing the alterations on the first dress out of the basket, Philamena looked up when Abby waddled out of the bedroom, looking rested and tired at the same time. Abby studied Philamena’s handiwork and nodded her approval.

“You’re very good with a needle,” Abby said, surprised by Philamena’s skill. She was a skilled seamstress if the work she’d just finished was any indication. “You did a fine job on this dress.”

Philamena blushed, unaccustomed to any praise. “My mama taught me to sew. We used to spend many hours sitting by the fire, sewing and talking.”