Chapter Eight

Sunday dawned clear, bright, and bitter cold. A reminder that Christmas was just a week away.

Linc bundled up the girls, loaded them into the sleigh, and headed for the community church. Despite getting home fairly early last night, he was obligated to make certain his sister got home safely. But that meant bundling up the girls and taking them into the cold night air. He should have switched the sleigh for the team and wagon, but since he'd already broken his own rule about not having any females other than the girls in the sleigh, he gave in. Thankfully, Betsy had been too sleepy to interrogate him about his evening.

It was a good thing, too. He had lain awake most of the night wondering why he planned on courting one woman yet why he enjoyed an evening with the nosy schoolteacher.

In the morning, after too little sleep, he was no closer to an understanding.

"Charlie Winston says we're going to have a white Christmas," Violet chatted as they made the turn to the main road.

"Charlie Winston is sweet on you," Rachel teased.

"He is not. You take that back!"

"What's a white Christmas?" Daisy asked.

"I'm not gonna take it back because it's the truth."

"Rachel." Linc said no more than her name as he pulled the sleigh to a stop alongside other wagons and sleighs.

"Hmpf," she replied.

He didn't need to look to know her reply was accompanied by her sticking out her tongue. "Rachel."

"Sorry," she said. Her tone also carried a bit of lingering huff, but he let it go.

He really needed to talk with Abigail. The girls needed a mother, a firm hand, and a parent who wasn't so exhausted. He loved his girls, but they were getting out of hand, proving his decision to remarry was the right one. They needed a mother, but more than that they needed a father who only had to worry about being a father to them.

"What's a white Christmas?" Daisy asked again.

Linc secured the reins, then swung his youngest to the ground. "It's when it snows on Christmas Day and the ground is covered in white."

An angelic expression covered her sweet, innocent face. He smiled to himself as he helped Rachel and Violet from the sleigh to stand with their sister.

Daisy clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and lifted her face to the sky. "I'm gonna start praying for a white Christmas right now."

Of all the seats in the church, why did Mary pick a pew behind Linc Wyse during the services? Claire suppressed a sigh and tried to turn her attention back to Pastor Cullins. She blamed her sister for choosing a pew across from and two rows behind Linc and two rows behind Abigail Tully on the other side.

She could see every time Abigail glanced toward Linc and every time Linc looked over at Abigail. Thankfully, she didn't have to endure any lengthy, loving stares.

Pastor Cullins took his place at the pulpit, looked out over the congregation, and smiled kindly. "Good morning, friends. Well, here we are, the last Sunday before Christmas. The past weeks I've spoken on hope, peace, and joy. Today, the whole meaning of Christmas can be explained in one, little four-letter word…Love."

Claire shifted in her seat, glanced down at her lap, and back up again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Linc sit up straighter, his lips pressed tightly together. Just then he glanced across the aisle at Abigail. He might as well have had a placard fastened to his back claiming he wanted to court Abigail Tully.

"Love is a big idea, and most of us would like to believe we understand it even though we're not so good at actually doing it. We love those closest to us or who are good to us, but then struggle to love those who dislike us, or who are not like us."

As he spoke, the pastor ran his gaze over his flock, stopped for a second on Linc, then moved on to Claire. She quickly looked away, fussed with the top button on her coat, and cleared her throat. It was as if the man was trying to make his point directly to her.

Mary bumped her shoulder and nodded her head toward Linc. Despite sitting with his mother, sister, and the girls, he looked rather lonely.

"When asking another person to spend the rest of their life with you, they need to buy into that idea. Those of you who have been married know what I'm talking about. The person being asked must give their consent to everything that commitment entails…in sickness and in health, for better or worse."

"It is the goal of every heart to love and to be loved unconditionally in return. The Christmas story assures us that we begin our lives loved and will end our lives loved—by the Lord Himself.

"Christmas is coming! We have a week to prepare. But it's more than about presents. It's about love. We can love others because love came down on the first Christmas. Because He showed us that we can have hope, peace, joy, and love. May you experience it and be able to show it as we enter the final week of Christmas. Now let us stand and raise our voices in song… ‘On Jordan's Bank.' "

As the last notes drifted away, people spilled out of the pew and Claire watched Abigail step into the aisle at the same time as Linc. He was clean-shaven this morning, his good looks capturing her attention, and when he smiled his mouth curved with tenderness.

Except that smile wasn't meant for her.

Any hope Claire had of Linc Wyse courting dissipated like smoke from a chimney on a winter's night. She had prayed for a sign, and this one was easy enough to see. Soon Linc and Abigail would announce their intentions and that would be that.

Against her better judgment, Claire gave in to Mary's request to stay for the social. In return, Claire made Mary promise that under no circumstances would she create a scene. Nor did she want to watch Abigail and Linc share a meal with the girls just as if they were already a family.

Normally, Claire would have jumped in to help organize the myriad of dishes the families would bring to share. It was the same every week. Roasted chickens, stews, and ham biscuits would lead off followed by vegetables and stewed apples. By far, desserts were the most popular. It was an unspoken fact that the bakers in town vied for recognition with their pies, cakes, and cookies.

Claire had just filled her plate and was settling down with Mary when Betsy Wyse came bustling up.

"Can you do me a big favor, Claire? " With her flushed face, Linc's sister did look unusually harried.

"Of course." Claire put her utensils by her plate and stood. "What do you need?"

Betsy gave her a grateful smile, then handed her a plate with a large piece of apple pie resting in the center. "Take this to Linc for me? "

Claire look down at the pie then up to Betsy's face. Was she serious, she wondered as she took the plate from her? She sighed. It was too late to back out now.

"Go on, Claire," Mary urged from behind, confirming her suspicion that her sister and Betsy were matchmaking.

The odds were against her. If she backed off now, these two would never let her forget it. It was best to get it over with…and quick. Summoning a dose of courage, she headed to where he sat with his mother, and Wes Harty.

"Linc." He looked up when she approached. In fact, his mother and Wes turned to survey her as well.

"I, um…here's your pie. Betsy said I should give this to you." She kept her gaze on his face, but that didn't mean she didn't notice the looks between Doreen Wyse and Wes. Were they in on the prank also?

Linc took the plate she offered. "Thanks, Claire." His simple thank you was accompanied by a ready smile.

"You're welcome." She turned to leave, all too aware of his gaze on her.

She had almost made it back to where Mary was waiting for her, when Rachel approached, carefully carrying a steaming cup of coffee.

"Miss Claire," she said, never taking her eyes off the cup. She was trying very hard not to spill it. "Will you take this to Papa for me?"

Claire quickly took the cup. Recalling the lengths the girls went to get their father interested in her, she couldn't help but be suspicious. "You wouldn't be pulling a prank on me and your father, would you, Rachel?"

"No, Miss Claire. I told Papa I would get his coffee and Violet and Daisy went to get some of Mrs. Gunniston's ginger spice cake. See." She pointed to the crowd surrounding the dessert table.

Claire glanced to where Rachel pointed. Sure enough, she saw Violet balance a plate with a thick wedge of Mamie Gunniston's spiced apple cake in both hands. Carrying a cookie in each hand, Daisy walked beside her.

"I'll be happy to bring the coffee to your father. Are you going to join me?"

Rachel flashed her the sweet smile that she'd fallen in love with from the very first. "No, ma'am. We're going to spend the day with Nana. Bye, Miss Claire." She skipped away leaving Claire holding the cup of coffee.

"Are they in love yet?

"I told you, silly. That's not how it works," Violet snorted.

"How do you know?" Daisy countered. "You're only seven. And don't call me names. Mama would wash your mouth out with soap if she could hear you."

"Well, she can't." Violet sounded close to tears.

"Both of you hush up and stop fighting." Tears gathered on Rachel's lashes. "Do you want a new mama or not?"

"I'm sorry," Daisy cried.

"Me, too." Violet hugged her younger sister.

"What did Papa do? What did Miss Claire do?" asked Violet.

Rachel just shook her head. "She handed him the coffee and left."

"That's all?" Daisy and Violet's disappointment was evident.

"Yes." But neither of them were more unhappy than her.

"How are we supposed to make them fall in love?" Violet moaned

Rachel thought about it for a moment, but the answer didn't immediately come. "I guess we can pray on it."

"Do you think the Lord knows about love?" asked Daisy.

"Of course, He does," came Violet's sharp retort, already forgetting her earlier apology. "The Lord knows about everything."

"More than you, smarty pants." None of them knew much about love, Rachel reasoned. But she did know where she might find out.

"Have either of you seen Auntie Betts reading a book?"

Daisy shook her head.

"You mean the one she hides in her skirts when Nana comes into the room?" asked Violet. "Auntie says they are about love."

Rachel nodded. "All we have to do is get one of those books. It'll tell us how to make him fall in love with Miss Claire." Not only was it the perfect idea it was the only one she'd come up with so far.

"Here's what we're gonna do," she continued. "When we get to Nana's you two ask her to take you to the barn to see the new kittens. I'll go into Auntie's room and look for the books."

"I once saw her hide something in her trunk," Violet put in. "You could try there first."

"What if Auntie catches you?"

Violet gasped but Rachel stared at their younger sister. "Do you think I'd take a chance on getting caught? I know for a fact that Auntie and Miss Mary are going for a sleigh ride with Branch Landers and Aaron Brooks."

"Are you certain…" Violet hesitated.

"Do you want a new mama?"

"I do!" exclaimed Daisy.

Violet bobbed her head.

"Then just keep Nana in the barn and I'll do the rest."

Linc waited until his mother and the girls were safely on their way before he went in search of Abigail Tully. He found her with a group of friends. "Can I speak to you, Abigail?"

Abigail Tully turned and leveled clear, pale blue eyes on him. There was nothing special about them. They weren't dull but they didn't sparkle either. And why was he shaking in his boots? He wasn't this way with Claire McAllister.

"Yes, Linc?" Her usual somber dress made him uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't define. No one knew better than him how difficult it was to move on. But for the sake of the girls he had to do just that. Maybe she really didn't want to move on. Maybe he was making a mistake. She smiled blandly, folded her hands in front of her, and waited for him to say something more.

"The girls and I would like you to come to supper tomorrow night." He heard a voice, thick and unsteady, and hardly recognized it as his own.

Her eyes brightened with pleasure. "That would be lovely, Linc."

She smiled and some of the tension between his shoulders eased. Yet, the silence lengthened between them making him uncomfortable.

"Should I bring a dish? A dessert, maybe?"

"No, no. You're our guest, Abigail. Come about six-thirty. I'll have to do the second milking before we sit down to eat."

"Six-thirty," she confirmed before she moved away and returned to her friends.

You're doing this for the girls , Linc reminded himself as he went in search of his sister.

He found her talking with Branch Landers. Serious and hardworking, Landers didn't seem like Betsy's type. But what did he know about who or what women liked? "Betts, I need your help. Abigail Tully is coming to supper tomorrow night, and I need you to cook something for us."

Raising one finely, arched eyebrow, Betsy remained quiet.

An impatient sigh rolled out of him. Having seen that look for as long as he could remember, Linc amended his request. "I mean, I'd like you to help me cook something."

Betsy looked at Branch who shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I'll wait for you outside, Betts," he said, then inclined his head, acknowledging Linc. "Good to see you, Linc."

"Please, Betsy." He hated to be beholden to anyone, but it was especially so when it came to his sister. It just stuck in his craw.

Betsy crossed her arms and gave him the look, the one that usually meant trouble for whoever received it. "On one condition."

Of course there was a condition. Why did women always make it complicated? "What is it?"

"You invite Claire McAllister over for supper next."

Linc shook his head. He didn't want to give Claire the wrong idea. Especially after the sleigh ride home last night when he felt a thread of attraction growing between them.

But he guessed he could rationalize it as a way to thank her for caring about the girls and making dresses for them. "You'll cook that night, too?"

Betsy nodded but the smile on her face caused goosebumps along his arms. She was up to something. He reckoned he'd just have to wait and see.

For the second time in the last five minutes, Linc looked out the barn door. It was close to milking time and the girls were late. Surely someone would have sent word if something had happened to one or all of them. They needed to get everything done before Abigail arrived.

And you still need to tell the girls she is coming for supper.

He sighed. Come January, he'd be married. But that solved only one problem; he still needed help in the barn. Maybe he'd talk with Branch Landers to inquire if one of his younger brothers wanted a job. Behind him, the cows shifted and lowed. He couldn't wait much longer to do the milking.

Twenty minutes later the girls finally showed up. They didn't offer an explanation or an apology. And Linc didn't press them. All of them had been through so much sadness this past year that he didn't have the heart to press them on something small. They were, after all, still children.

Yet, they were growing up. In less than ten years, they'd be out of the house, possibly married with their own families. And if he didn't make a move soon to take a wife, he'd be more alone than he was now.

"A good day at school?" he asked as they made their way to the house after the milking was done.

"Yup," Daisy answered for all of them.

"And just two more days until we're out," Violet added.

But before that, Lincoln Wyse, you need to tell them … "Girls, we're having company for supper tonight."

The girls slowed their pace and in the waning daylight, Linc saw them exchange glances. "Abigail Tully is coming for supper," he told them with little fanfare. Folks would probably think his approach strange, but then most single men didn't have three children to consider in their decision.

"The old prune who lives down the road from Nana?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, and she's not an old prune," Linc returned, a warning note in his voice. "She's a widow. Her husband died some years ago."

"If you don't count Nana or Auntie Betts, nobody comes to eat supper with us," Violet pointed out.

"Well, we are tonight," Linc said, herding them up the snowy walk. "And I expect your best behavior."

"I guess it's a good thing that somebody left us more food." Rachel pointed to a basket left by the back door.

Violet ran ahead and slung the handle over her arm. She lifted the towel and snapped open the metal tin cover. "Yum. It's more of those cookies you like, Papa."

Rachel hung back, pretending disinterest in the basket but Linc knew better. His eldest has been so strong for so long. All the more reason to settle this with Abigail tonight.

"Did they leave a note?" he asked.

Daisy and Violet lifted the tin and looked underneath.

"Nope," they answered in unison.

It wasn't the first time someone had left shortbread cookies on their porch. But without a note how could he thank the giver and or return the basket to her?

"Do you think it was Nana?" Violet asked. "She makes good cookies."

Linc enjoyed his mother's cookies, also. However, if it was her why did she leave them on the porch? Why didn't she come to find him and visit for a while?

"Okay, everyone in the house," Linc announced. "Get upstairs, wash, and put on a clean dress if you need to."

"Why do we need to change?" Violet looked puzzled.

Rachel gave her a poke with her elbow. "Because we're having company. He wants us to look nice." Linc noticed her smile but it appeared brittle.

"Your sister's right. Upstairs with you now."

They did as they were told but they weren't tractable about it. Linc understood their confusion but he hoped they'd appreciate that his efforts would bring them what they needed, a new mama.

"Would you care for another biscuit, Miss Tully?"

Linc looked over the edge of his coffee cup to see Rachel sliding a plate in Abigail's direction. The girls had been on their best behavior. They had remained in their seats and remembered to use their napkins and their manners.

"No, thank you, dear. I've reached my limit."

She smiled at Rachel, and Linc noticed it didn't reach her eyes. He noticed, too, that she had yet to call the girls by their names.

"My compliments on the food. It was delicious. I so seldom get an opportunity to enjoy a home-cooked meal."

What woman didn't cook?

He decided not to press her on it. Or maybe he misunderstood. Perhaps cooking for one didn't make sense. Or it was economical. Or…

"I think it's time for dessert."

Daisy jumped from her chair. "We have cookies. I'll get them." She returned a few moments later with the tin and plunked it down on the table. Not the most impressive presentation.

"Not like that, silly goose." Rachel slid from her chair before she tugged on Violet's sleeve. "We'll show her how it's done, won't we, Violet?"

Violet nodded mutely and dutifully followed her sisters in the kitchen. That left Linc and Abigail alone

"I can't believe you went to all this trouble for me." Abigail tilted her head to one side. Now, her blue eyes went soft and her mouth curved into a genuine smile.

"I can't take all the credit," he admitted. "My sister came over earlier."

"She did? Why didn't you mention it?"

Linc shrugged. "It never occurred to me that you thought I had cooked it."

"I see." Her expression changed and her smile appeared brittle. She shifted her focus from him to survey the room and he found himself following her gaze.

Their outerwear hung haphazardly on pegs near the door. His work boots and the girls' galoshes were heaped in a pile. The furniture needed a good dusting. They had cleaned it after putting up the tree and decorations. The girls had copied Claire's idea of stringing paper snowflakes from the ceiling, and bits of paper stuck to the horsehair settee.

She had commented on them when she first entered but now Linc wasn't so sure she liked them.

"I take it you're looking for a wife to cook and clean for you?" Her eyes narrowed and the smile disappeared altogether.

He was beginning to think this might have been a mistake. A big mistake. "Well…sure. I can't take care of the stock, the house, and the girls by myself."

Abigail remained silent.

Linc wanted to say more. Much more. But the girls came back into the room. Daisy carried a plate of shortbread cookies while Rachel toted cups of coffee, and Violet set down the sugar bowl.

Abigail smiled and reached for a cookie. "Did your sister bake these, especially for tonight?"

"Nope," Daisy answered, around a mouthful of cookie. "Someone keeps leaving these on the porch."

"Is that so?" Abigail took the cup and saucer from Rachel.

"Yup," Daisy replied, a milk ring outlining her lips.

Linc held his breath, certain the girls wouldn't do anything as foolish as spilling the hot liquid on their guest. Once Abigail raised the cup to her lips, he relaxed. He got the feeling his girls would rather have anyone other than Abigail sitting at their table.

Especially Claire McAllister.

Linc gritted his teeth. The woman popped into his head at the oddest times. Here he was, close to proposing marriage to one woman and thinking about another. He should be sharing his plans for the wonderful life he and Abigail could look forward to sharing.

Like what? a small voice taunted. Daughters who don't cotton to their stepmother? A dusty house? Someone to help with the milking? Someone who expected a wife to cook and clean? When listed that way, what did he really have to offer Abigail Tully? Certainly not love, though it might come in time. He wouldn't be the only man who settled for something less than love.

"Can you bake cookies?" Daisy asked. "We love cookies." All three girls looked at her expectantly.

"I'm not much of a baker. If I want something for a sweet tooth, I just go to the mercantile or the café."

If she didn't want to cook or clean or bake shortbread cookies, she more than likely would never want to help in the barn. He wondered what she did with her time all day. Perhaps he should ask Abigail what she wanted from life before he asked for her hand.

Once they finished with the cookies and coffee, the girls began clearing the table. Rather than offering to help, she just sat there and smiled, seemingly content to let others do the work.

"I read to the girls every night after supper. Would you like to join us for a chapter or two? We just started ‘ Hans Brinker' ."

Abigail shook her head. "I should be getting back. I enjoy a bit of quiet time with my bible before sleep."

A bit of quiet time? She lived alone. Didn't she have quiet time all day?

"I'll walk you to the barn."

After she said goodnight to the girls, he helped her with her outerwear. Ducking under one dangling snowflake, he opened the back door. The air was frigid, and though it wasn't snowing, clouds covered the sky. Only the flames from the lantern near the kitchen window shed any light onto the yard.

"Wait here under the eaves while I get the buggy." He jogged to the barn, hitched up the buggy, and holding the reins, led the mare outside.

"Thank you for supper, Linc. I enjoyed being with you."

"I'm glad we had a chance to get better acquainted." And he was, but not for the reasons he'd originally thought. True, she easy on the eyes, but there was something that just didn't feel right.

She moved closer to him in the muted light, her intention clear. She wanted him to kiss her.

He stepped away, clearly indicating he wasn't at all ready to do that…not at all. But as he watched the shadow of disappointment cross her face, he recalled another evening under the nighttime sky and a different woman he wanted to kiss. More than that, he wanted to pull her closer, wanted to mold her soft curves to the contours of his body, wanted to absorb the charm and grace that was Claire McAllister. However, the moment had passed, dissipating like chimney smoke on a windy night.

"Goodbye, Abigail."

Her smile held a touch of arrogance as she stepped into her buggy. He watched her go, thankful she was leaving even as he had an inexplicable feeling of something just out of reach.