Chapter Ten

The snow continued falling steadily throughout the afternoon as did the girls' spirits when he quietly explained why they would not be attending the Christmas Eve Dance. It broke his heart to watch the tears gather in their eyes but he wouldn't jeopardize their lives or his just to take a turn or two around the dance floor. Privately, he suspected the weather would keep other families home as well.

Once supper was finished and the kitchen set to rights, the girls got ready for bed, then joined Linc in the sitting room for the reading of the Lord's birth. He'd read the story from the gospel of Luke so many times, he could recite it by rote. Tonight, he struggled to find peace in its message.

After he settled the girls in bed, he stayed up pondering why he felt so unsettled. Not even arranging the presents—a cloth doll for Daisy, drawing paper and pencils for Violet, and a copy of Little Women for Rachel—beneath the tree could shake the feeling something was missing.

He let his gaze wander around the room. The hard, wooden planes of the mantle were softened by the cedar boughs, ribbons, and paper snowflakes. Nearby, on the cedar tree, lacey, crocheted snowflakes, and the glass ornaments, were joined by the straw stars he and the girls had created with Claire.

Something hopeful worked through Linc, warming him in a way he didn't know needed warming. A crack had opened in his heart sometime in the past month and Claire McAllister had slipped through, taking up residence without even trying.

He dozed off, aided by Claire's image in his head, only to wake up before dawn to start the milking. As he trudged out to the barn, he replayed the scene with Abigail. Having gotten to know her a bit, he expected her to throw a hissy fit. Instead, she turned on the tears thinking to change Linc's resolve. But as the father of three girls, he saw right through her tactics. When that approach didn't work, the expected hissy fit ensued. Rather than respond to her rants, and say something he'd regret, he simply took her by the elbow and deposited her in her buggy, glad the girls hadn't witnessed her outburst.

Besides, he couldn't marry a woman who wanted to be the man of the family. What sort of message would that send to the girls? What sort of values would they learn watching others toil on the land he owned? No, that wasn't true…for in reality the farm would always belong to Abigail.

He finished the milking and made sure the milch cows and horses had enough feed and water nearby before he trekked back to the house. He had barely knocked the snow from his boots and outerwear when the girls came flying down the stairs.

"Merry Christmas, Papa! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas." He smiled and swung each of them in turn. No amount of riches could equal the happiness these girls had brought him. The house was clean for the most part, and he learned—mostly by accident—how to do the wash. He'd gotten the hang of doing the girls' hair. He'd learned how to become both mother and father to his daughters. Perhaps he'd been a little hasty in trying to find a wife and mother.

"Can we see what Santy Cause brought us?" Daisy's missing teeth altered the pronunciation.

Linc shook his head. "I've explained to you that we're bringing the presents over to Nana's. We'll open them there."

Undeterred, all three girls pressed their hands together and stared up at him. "Please, Papa. Can we open just one?" Rachel asked, acting as spokesman for her sisters.

He swung Daisy up in his arms, feeling real joy. He could do this. He definitely could do this without Abigail Tully. "There's a basket in the kitchen from Miss Claire. What do you say we open it and see what she brought us?"

The girls let out a loud cheer and raced ahead of him toward the kitchen. He arrived just in time to help Rachel hoist the hamper onto the table.

On top was a quilt. Made from light and dark fabrics centered around a red square, it looked like light and shadows. Something like life , he thought to himself, the dark times, and those like today, the light times. He didn't know the name of it, but it was lovely and one of a kind, just like the woman who made it. A tag was tucked into one of the folds. To replace the one in your sleigh.

He trailed his fingers over the stitches, recalling the night she rode home with him. It hadn't been that long ago yet she had managed to find the perfect gift for him and the girls.

"This one has your name on it, Daisy," said Rachel handing her sister a gift wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon.

Linc didn't realize that when Claire said there were gifts she meant separate gifts for each of them rather than family gifts.

"Is there one with my name on it, Rachel?" Violet danced on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

"Yup, and one for me, too." She stuck her hand back inside the hamper and pulled out a woven basket covered with a white cloth. "Here, Papa."

He took it from her as the girls tore into their packages. Claire had knitted each girl a pair of mittens, a matching scarf, and a hat with ear flaps and tassels in different colors.

"You look silly, Daisy." Violet laughed at her younger sister dancing around the table in her nightclothes sporting her hat, scarf, and mittens.

"What are you holding, Papa?" Violet pointed to the basket in his hands.

Watching the joy on his daughters' faces, Linc had almost forgotten he still held it. He untied the knot. Inside were a dozen or more shortbread cookies.

"Miss Claire was the one leaving the cookies on the porch all those times?"

Linc's heart stuttered. What other answer could there be? Perhaps his mother? His sister? He was certain they would have stayed to chat if it was either of them. Perhaps it was Claire's sister, Mary? He didn't want it to be her.

He wanted Claire to be the one who cared enough to find out his favorite cookie.

And he knew that she was. Just as he knew he could make it without Abigail Tully, he knew he wanted a life with Claire McAllister. A true marriage of raising his…their girls, making straw ornaments, and eating shortbread cookies.

"Go get dressed, girls."

"Are we going to Nana's now?" Daisy asked.

"Nope. Someplace you'll like better."

A half-hour later the girls found him in the barn standing next to the sleigh. The green-painted wood could use a new coat of varnish, and there were a few cracks in the leather seats, but it would get them where they were going.

"Oh, Papa! Our first sleigh ride this year." Out of all the girls, Rachel probably had the most memories of riding in the sleigh with him and Katie.

"Help me push it outside so I can hitch up the horse." He could have easily done it alone but he wanted them to be part of it. Rachel ran back inside and brought out the mares they used to pull the buggy.

Minutes later, Linc had hitched up the horses. "Everybody climb aboard," he shouted. Rachel climbed in first, and held Daisy on her lap, while Violet squeezed in next to her. When Linc got in, he spread the new quilt over their legs to keep them warm.

"Where are we going, Papa?" asked Rachel.

A vision of Claire filled this mind. "We're going to get my Christmas wife."

At the sound of sleigh bells, Claire looked up from the pie crust she was putting together. She and Mary were due at Pastor Cullins for Christmas dinner in a few hours. As much as she enjoyed being with the pastor and his family, she just wanted to be alone.

After yesterday's debacle at Linc's house, she had sobbed for hours. Three months ago, she arrived from Baltimore vulnerable and humiliated. She thought she'd experienced the worst kind of hurt imaginable. She'd been wrong, so wrong. Losing Linc and his daughters hurt a thousand times over.

"What's all the noise outside" Mary rinsed her hands, dried them on a towel, then peeked out the front window. "Claire, you need to see this."

Something in her tone sent Claire's heart pounding. Nothing about this Christmas had turned out like she envisioned. The snowstorm had postponed the Christmas Dance. A new date had been set for New Year's Eve. She wouldn't be going. In fact, she intended to stay well away from anyone until school started up after the holidays.

And no doubt, Linc and the girls were already sharing Christmas breakfast with Abigail in her comfortable home, planning their nuptials. "What is it?"

There in her front yard were Linc and his girls in the sleigh, shaking a quartet of leather harness sleigh bells. The girls cheered and called to her from the sleigh. They were decked out in the hats, mittens, and scarves she'd made for them, and the sight brought tears to her eyes.

"Claire McAllister!" he shouted.

She hurried past Mary and opened the front door. A blast of frigid air had her reaching for her shawl as she stepped out onto the porch. "Lincoln Wyse, what are you doing here?"

He stood up in the sleigh. "Claire, I have something to say to you…things you deserve to hear."

A vision of Linc and Abigail together clouded her vision. "I'm not in the mood to talk."

"That's good." He stepped out of the buggy and started toward her, trudging through the snow. "Because I intend to do all the talking."

Holding nothing but Claire's gaze, Linc got straight to the point. "Things aren't always as they seem."

"I know what I saw yesterday, Linc. You and Abigail—"

"For starters…there is no me and Abigail. Second…I won't be marrying her."

Claire's deep, hesitant intake of air was more eloquent than words. "You…you won't?"

"I told her there was a change in plans." He placed a booted foot on the bottom step.

"What little I know about Abigail Tully, I imagine she pitched a fit. Or turned on the tears."

He barked out a laugh. "Both, actually," he said, relieved.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out as you planned." The smile playing at the corner of her lips suggested otherwise.

His own lips lifted in a grin. "No, you're not, and neither am I."

They held one another's gaze.

"Claire, I've come to ask you to marry me."

Her heart gave a hard thump against her ribcage. "What?"

"Haven't you heard? I'm looking for a new mother for my girls."

"And that's why you want to marry me?" For a moment she'd hoped that he felt the same for her as she did for him.

"No," he said as he came closer. He smelled of pine and the outdoors and everything good. Reaching out one gloved hand, he touched the backs of his fingers to her cheeks. "I came here for me."

"You did?" Her eyes grew wider.

"I did. See, in all my planning I left out something important."

Claire swallowed hard, afraid to let her hopes rise any higher. "And what might that be?"

"Love. You see, Claire, all I've ever wanted was a stable home for my girls. I had my chance at love and didn't want another try. But then you barged into my life and showed me to want more, not only for the girls but for myself."

Hope unfurled in her chest.

"I love you, Claire McAllister. I think I've loved you since the first time you came to the house and were all—" He waved an arm around but didn't finish.

Heat filled her cheeks. "I was only trying to help."

"I know that. Now" He chuckled. "And I could use some of that help…for the rest of my life."

"I love you, Linc Wyse." She said the words sweetly, confidently.

He took her hands in his. "I love you with all that I am. I want you to be my wife. I want us to have a real marriage, one full of love and laughter. Claire, will you marry—"

"Yes!"

"—me?"

"Yes, yes, yes." Laughingly, she went into his arms and planted her lips on his. "Yes, Linc. I will marry you."

He stared into her eyes. "You don't want to think about it first? You'll be getting four of us."

She cupped his stubbled cheek. "I want to be your wife, I want to mother your children, to love and cherish them as my own. I want to build a home with you and the girls, and any other children that might come along."

"I want to marry you as soon as possible," he said. "When do you think we should tell the girls?"

Claire looked past him and saw the girls jogging in place to stay warm. "I'm thinking right now would be good before their toes fall off."

"Sounds perfect to me, but first…" He pressed her lips to his, caressing her mouth, more than kissing it. "Merry Christmas, Claire."

"Merry Christmas, Linc. May we be blessed with many more Merry Christmases together."

Riding in the sleigh with Linc and the girls was about the best feeling in the world. The steady clomp of the horse's hooves, the wind stinging their cheeks. The love that surrounded them all.

"Are you really going to be our mama?" Violet asked. "Really and truly?"

Claire nodded. She could hardly believe it herself.

Linc chuckled, his smile showing just what he thought about the prospect.

"And you'll be at our house every day and every night?" Rachel, too, seemed unable to contain the wonder of it all.

"Yes, lovey. Every day and every night." She caught Linc's gaze. Every day as his wife, as the mother to his girls. It was the best Christmas she could ever imagine. The best Christmas of her life.

"Can we make cookies, too?" Daisy asked.

"Don't be a silly goose, Daisy. We can't have Christmas cookies all year long."

"Rachel." Linc gave her a gentle warning.

"But we can have them every year," Claire said. Every Christmas with her new family.

"And a sleigh ride. Can we have a sleigh ride every Christmas, Papa?" Daisy pleaded.

"Of course," Linc said. "But only when it snows."

"I'll start praying for snow right now," Daisy said earnestly.

Rachel started to tease her youngest sister, but Linc silently shook his head.

Claire smiled to herself. The chance of a white Christmas every year was not guaranteed, but she knew that with God and love anything was possible.