Chapter Nine

Claire pulled the buggy to a stop and set the brake before climbing out. She reached for the basket containing pieces of scrap wood, wooden spools of various colored threads, and a bundle of straw in different lengths. Hoping to share a bit of her German ancestry with Linc and the girls, she had gathered everything as soon as school let out for the day. In the years before her grandmother, Marte Dressler, had died, she'd spent hours making stars out of thread and straw.

She hooked the basket handle over her arm and gave the horse a withered apple and a pat on her head. "I'll get you into the barn in just a few minutes, girl." With a fresh snowfall on the ground and a biting wind, it wasn't prudent to leave any animal outside even for the few hours she'd be in the house.

She had just gathered the reins in her hand when Rachel and Violet bolted out the front door and fairly flew down the porch steps, their open coats flapping behind them, and broad smiles on their faces. She was happy to see Linc had at least made them wear a scarf around their necks.

"You're here! You're here!" cried Rachel.

"We've been waiting for such a long time to see you," echoed Violet."

"Goodness, girls," laughed Claire, hugging each one in turn. "You just saw me a few hours ago." She loved getting hugs from all her students but the Wyse girls were special. "Where's Daisy?"

"Inside with Papa and Auntie Betts. They want you to go on inside. We'll take care of your horse and buggy."

Claire's heart plummeted but she managed to nod her thanks. When she received Linc's note earlier today, asking her to come for supper tonight, she assumed it would just be the five of them. Perhaps she was assuming too much.

You know what they say about assumptions , her mother had warned her time and again.

It was just supper. Parents invited teachers to their homes all the time. Some to talk about their children's progress. Some to show their appreciation. She suspected Linc invited her to ease his guilty conscience, she told herself as she let herself in the house.

"Linc? Betsy?"

The aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread mingled with the woodsy scent of cedar. Boughs, ribbons, and paper snowflakes highlighted the mantle and the cedar bush tucked into a corner. Her gaze lifted upward to see an exquisite, ethereal angel surrounded by crocheted lace snowflakes suspended from the boughs. Flames crackling in the fireplace gave the house a cheery, festive atmosphere.

"Miss Claire!" Daisy came flying from the kitchen, embracing Claire with all the might she had in her little arms. "I'm so happy you're here."

"So am I, lovey." Despite her nervousness, Claire was truly happy to be there. She was looking forward to a wonderful night with Linc, Betsy, and the girls.

Again, reality set in. She needed to remember why Linc invited her. Word around town was that Abigail Tully had been to supper the night before, reinforcing the rumors that Linc Wyse was courting her.

"Hurry and see what Auntie Betts made for supper." Daisy pulled on her hand, putting an end to her woolgathering.

Claire stepped into the warm kitchen, the aroma of food making her mouth water. "Goodness, you must have been cooking all day."

Linc lifted his hands from the sink and spun around, flinging droplets on the floor. He had a towel slung over one shoulder and one around his solid waist. She imagined his flushed cheeks were either from the heat in the kitchen or his embarrassment of getting caught washing the dishes.

Claire set the basket on a side table. "Can I do anything for you?"

Betsy transferred the last scoop of mashed potatoes from the pan into a serving bowl. "I think everything is just about ready." With the precision of a general, she enlisted Daisy's help in bringing the bowls of potatoes, stewed apples, carrots, and a basket of bread to the table. Once Linc set down a platter of roasted chicken, the table was covered with a feast that made Claire's stomach rumbled inelegantly.

After rinsing her hands, Betsy whipped off her apron. "Well, my job is done here. Enjoy your supper."

Before Claire could utter a word, Betsy swept from the house and was gone.

Linc shook his head and chuckled. Claire joined in. Sometimes, being around Betsy was like being around her sister. They were like twisters bearing down on them from all sides.

"You didn't need to go through all this trouble just for me. I would have been more than happy with a simple stew."

Linc orchestrated a shrug. "I didn't…at least not all of it. Betsy did most of the work."

"You could have come to our house. It would have been fun to cook for someone other than just me and Mary."

Linc studied her, a moment so intense that Claire had a sudden urge to grab her coat and flee into the night. "I invited you, remember?"

"We're back. Is supper ready?" Footsteps across the wooden floor followed their voices and Rachel and Violet burst into the room, their cheeks pink from the cold and their smiles stretching from ear to ear.

"Take off your coats and wash your hands," Claire instructed. "Supper's ready." Realizing what she'd done, she turned to Linc. For a moment she forgot she had no right to tell them to do anything outside of school. She wasn't their mother. This wasn't her family.

Linc nodded. "Do as Miss Claire says."

They scampered to the pump, leaving Claire alone with Linc.

"I apologize for overstepping my authority, Linc. Sometimes I tend to take charge of every situation."

"You don't say."

Despite the mockery of his words, Claire watched one side of Linc's mouth turn up into a grin. She told herself she noticed it only because he so seldom smiled at her.

The girls returned just then and any further conversation ceased. She wasn't sure they'd had time to wash properly before rushing back to her and Linc. But she was about to overstep her boundaries again. Besides, she needed the girls to act as a barrier between her and Linc.

"I want Miss Claire to sit next to me," demanded Violet.

"No. I'm the oldest so I get to sit next to her," Rachel pointed out.

"But I'm the youngest, so I get to sit next to her," Daisy whined.

"Girls, that will be enough." By the tone of Linc's voice and the droop of their shoulders, the girls knew he meant business and quieted immediately. He walked to the seat opposite him at the table and pulled out the chair. "Miss Claire, would you do the honor of sitting at our table and saying a prayer over the food?"

"I'd be pleased to, Linc." Startled by his offer, she heard herself answer in a voice that sounded so unlike her own. He pulled the chair further back, allowing for her skirts and petticoats, and waited until she sat.

"Rachel and Violet, you'll sit there." He pointed to the right side of the table. "Daisy, you come sit by me on this side."

Once they sat, everyone bowed their heads and Claire offered a prayer. "For food that stays our hunger, for rest that brings us ease, for homes where memories linger, we give our thanks to you, Lord, for these." Silently she asked the Lord to ease her yearning to be part of Linc Wyse's family. She couldn't ever remember wanting a home and family as much as she wanted this family. Not even with Drew.

When the prayer ended, they passed around the bowls, each one serving themselves, before passing it along. The conversation was lively with them all talking about their favorite books and stories. It had been a long time since she'd enjoyed an evening as much as this one.

Following supper, she helped clear the table and washed the dishes. Despite the girls' objections, she helped set the room to rights before she brought her basket to the table.

"Oh, these are so pretty," Rachel gushed. She lifted two straw ornaments in the shape of stars by a thin ribbon fashioned into a loop.

"I thought you might like to make a few for your tree. My grandmother taught me how to make them many years ago." She removed the colored threads, the bundle of straw, and the wooden blocks.

"Our mama made the lace ornaments for the tree," Violet whispered, tears trembling on her lashes.

"Oh, lovey, what's wrong?"

Instead of answering, Violet clung to Claire, her tears wetting the fabric of her dress. Instinctively, she held Linc's daughter, drawing soothing circles on her back as the girl cried.

"She misses Mama," Rachel said quietly. "We all do."

Claire extended a free arm in invitation to Daisy and Rachel. They came readily, her heart melting at those sweet faces with tears in their eyes. "It's only natural that you're sad. Any time you lose a dear one whether they pass into the Lord's hands, or they move away, your heart hurts."

"Then it's okay if I cry?"

Claire gave Violet a reassuring smile. "Certainly, lovey. Everyone has to have their eyes washed once in a while."

Violet hiccoughed, her little body trembling with the effort. "I try not to do it in front of Papa. I don't want him to be sad."

"Does your heart ever hurt, Miss Claire?" Rachel asked. "I mean, did anyone ever leave you?"

Recalling Drew and Ava's betrayal, Claire swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. "Yes, Rachel, someone very dear to me hurt my heart a long time ago."

"Did you cry?" Daisy's hands, still showing traces of infancy, patted her cheek.

"I did," she admitted. Though it had been months, the sting of deception still hurt. Yet, sitting in Linc's home and surrounded by his girls, her unhappy memories no longer held her captive.

Slowly, one by one, they let go of her and returned to their seats. Having witnessed the varied temperaments of children during her teaching career, Claire was always impressed by their ability to adapt to situations. She would mention the girls' worries to Linc, but she'd seen his love for his daughters. And as Violet mentioned, she didn't want to add to her father's sadness.

Claire joined the girls at the table. "Are we ready to make some decorations, ladies?" At their enthusiastic nods, she set out a rainbow of spools of thread then emptied the mound of straw in the middle of the table.

"This is everything we'll need to make the ornaments," she announced. "We're going to make an eight-pointed star so we need eight pieces of straw. I'll make the first one to show you how to do it. Rachel, you pick the first color, Violet you pick the second color. Daisy, please count out eight pieces of straw."

While the two older girls debated what color they liked best, Daisy leaned forward and slid the pieces forward as she counted aloud. "One, two, three—"

Once eight pieces were selected, Claire took her shears and evened the lengths, using the scrap wood as a cutting mat. She placed two pieces together in a cross formation then added two more pieces diagonally.

"Rachel, please hand me a straight pin from the pin cushion." Knowing the straw was a bit slippery for Daisy's little fingers, she'd pin down the center to keep it stable. With the center secure, she wrapped a length of green thread Rachel had chosen over one of the topmost pieces and under its neighbor. She continued in this fashion until she worked her way around the ornament. Reaching the starting point, she tightened the thread so there was no slack.

"Now for the second color. Violet, what color did you choose?"

Violet handed Claire her choice. "I like yellow. It makes me happy."

Claire smiled, glad Violet's earlier melancholy had disappeared for the moment at least. "Yellow, it is." She repeated the process, weaving it over and under the straw rays. "And there you have it," she announced, holding up the star by one of its rays.

"Can we make our own now, Miss Claire?" Rachel asked once the girls finished admiring their teacher's creation.

Claire nodded. They went to work after choosing their choice of threads and pieces of straw. So intent on their task, they didn't hear Linc return from the barn until he appeared in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee.

"It looks like you ladies have been busy."

"Look, Papa!" Daisy dangled the star by a piece of string Claire had fastened into a loop. "I did it by myself," she boasted. Then her face fell a little. "Well, sort of. Miss Claire helped."

"Come make one, Linc." Claire waved him in.

Linc hesitated momentarily, then strolled in and took the empty chair before reaching for a spool of thread and straw pieces. Excited to have their father join in the activity, the girls became the teachers.

An hour later, the stars dangled from the cedar branches, the table was cleaned, and Linc began reading the next chapter of ‘ Hans Brinker' .

With Rachel on one side of her, Violet on the other, and Daisy on her lap, Claire settled comfortably on the settee. The fire lent the room a cozy warmth as Linc's deep voice transported her to another time and place.

When the mantle clock chimed the hour, Linc marked his place and closed the book. Daisy had fallen asleep in her arms long ago, giving her a brief glimpse of how it might be to hold her own child.

"Let me take her," Linc offered.

Claire shook her head, not yet ready to relinquish the sweet warmth in her arms as Linc woke the girls and herded them upstairs. When they reached the second floor, Linc inclined his head to the right. While he guided Rachel and Violet into the larger bed, she settled Daisy into the smaller bed tucked under the eaves. Seeing their shared room decorated by a bookcase filled with dolls, books, and simple toys made her feel a bit homesick. She had once shared a similar room with her two sisters before life was simpler…before the humiliation, before her exodus to Crystal Creek.

"Good night, girls." Linc adjusted their quilts before he kissed them on the forehead.

"Miss Claire," Daisy whispered, her hand still clasped around Claire's, "good night. I'm glad you're here."

"See you tomorrow."

Claire's heart stuttered. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She doubted she'd see them. The pain of pretending they were a family surpassed any heartache she'd known.

Allowing Linc an extra moment or two with the girls, Claire hurried down the stairs. Moments later, she heard Linc's heavy footfalls on the steps. Just as she reached for her coat from the row of pegs near the door, his hand covered hers, delaying her departure.

"Can we talk for a few minutes? Or are you in a hurry to get home?"

Unable to look away, Claire studied Linc's face. He appeared different, more relaxed, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "Of course. Since school is on holiday and I don't have to get up so early, my time is my own."

Leading the way into the sitting room, he added a few small round logs to the fire. Sparks, like fireflies, danced in the hearth as Claire reclaimed her seat, draping her coat beside her . She was both relieved and disappointed when Linc returned to his chair. In the end, she decided he chose the wiser move.

"If it's none of my business, just be straight with me." He paused, rubbing his hands down his thighs. "Other than supporting Mary, what made you come to Crystal Creek?"

Afraid to let herself give into her emotions, Claire sat perfectly still. "It's not a happy tale."

"Claire." Her name fell from his lips almost without sound. "Did someone hurt you?"

Cheeks heating from remembered shame, she clasped her hands together and lowered her head. "Yes."

"I'm willing to listen if you willing to share."

The offer was spoken softly, without a hint of judgement. The pain in her heart released ever-so-slightly. "For as long as I could remember, I was in love with Drew and I let that fact blind me to thinking he was in love with me."

"Then why didn't you marry him?"

"Because I learned the hard way that he was in love with my older sister, Ava. It was just before my birthday and I felt certain there was a proposal on the horizon. Instead, there was a note. He wasn't in love with me at all. All the time it was Ava. They'd left some time during the night for Abilene then boarded a train for Sacramento. I couldn't bear the looks of pity and snide remarks so when Mary wrote telling me there was a vacancy at the school, it seemed as if the Lord was directing my footsteps, and well, here I am."

In the space of a heartbeat, Linc's mouth flattened into a hard line. "He didn't deserve you, Claire."

"My parents said much the same thing. But I knew they had to straddle a very careful line. They love us all equally so I decided to make it easier on them and leave." She stood up and reached for her coat. "And speaking of leaving, it's time I do just that. Thank you for a lovely evening, Linc. I enjoyed it very much."

"I did, too." He walked her to the door, then grabbed his coat and hat

"Where are you headed?"

"To help you hitch up the buggy. I'd never hear the end of it if Mama found out I didn't help a lady in distress."

Claire doubted that hitching up a buggy constituted a lady in distress , as Linc put it. But she nodded, picked up her basket, and strode into the frigid night.

The barn was blessedly warm and with Linc's help, they made quick work of hitching up her horse.

"I'm glad you came," he said as he placed the basket behind the seat. "Thanks again for making the night special for the girls."

"It was my pleasure, Linc."

Claire stood there awkwardly, sad that their day was ending. She'd been pretending this was her life but now it was time to return to reality.

She turned to climb into the buggy but stopped when Linc reached out a hand and touched her face. His calloused fingers were cool against her cheek. Even in the dim light of the barn, she could see his smile. He looked down into her face, and suddenly, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean into him until her lips met his.

Instead of stepping away, he pulled her closer. He tasted of coffee and cream. That was her last rational thought for several minutes. As he deepened the kiss, she got lost in his warmth and unexpected passion.

Claire would never have believed a kiss could mean so much.

He ended the kiss and moved away so quickly, she wondered if she'd done something wrong. "Good night, Claire."

"Good night," she echoed. With nothing more to say she left the barn and headed for home.

Christmas Eve dawned with grey skies laden with snow. If those clouds were any indication, Daisy's prayers for a white Christmas would be granted.

Linc felt a sense of joy as he began the morning chores. With the girls' help, he hurried to finish the milking. For the first time in a very long time, he had something else on his mind besides the herd. Perhaps if they finished by noon, he'd bundle up the girls and take a trip to town to see Claire. Not only to visit but maybe to have another chance to kiss her. He couldn't help smiling just thinking about it. And maybe he'd even splurge on coffee and pie at the café.

He didn't know how it happened but Linc found himself smitten with Claire, and no longer felt complete without her presence. He had lain awake most of the night thinking about how funny it was that he could change his mind so quickly. His mother would have said he'd been bitten by the love bug . As unlikely as it had seemed only a month ago, that's exactly what had happened. Today, even his mother couldn't have wiped the big grin that spread across his face.

"Who's coming for supper tonight, Papa?" Violet asked as they headed back to the house.

"No one. It's just us tonight…it's Christmas Eve, remember?"

"Christmas Eve!" cried Rachel. A look of panic crossed her face. "Oh, Papa, tonight's the Christmas Eve Ball. We've been practicing for ever so long…we've just got to go!"

"Please, Papa!" Violet smashed her hands together in a prayerful pose.

"I want to wear my new dress…the one Miss Claire made for me," Daisy insisted.

Linc kicked off his boots, leaving them by the door. He glanced at the clock, then at the girls. It was well past noon. By the time he spruced himself up, oversaw the girls' washing, and tended to their hair, it would be another hour.

And now the girls wanted to attend the dance. Going into town twice a day would take precious time away from his work. He could do one or the other but not both. Besides, he had no way of knowing if Claire was off doing something for the dance or if she was home. However, if he decided not to go now, he was sure she'd be at the dance tonight. Suddenly, the thought of holding Claire in his arms, close to his heart, and waltzing her around the dance floor held much more appeal than a piece of pie and coffee.

"I thought you said nobody was coming today." Rachel peered out the window, pointing toward the buggy making the turn into the yard.

"It's Abigail Tully."

"Oh, no." Violet groaned as Rachel rolled her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

They shook their heads in unison. "Nothing."

"Hello, everyone," Abigail called from her buggy as Linc opened the door to greet her.

"Welcome, Abigail. What brings you out on Christmas Eve?" He guessed he should have tugged his boots back on and helped her alight from her buggy but he couldn't seem to summon up the will.

"I've brought you a mincemeat pie for your Christmas dinner." She entered the house carrying a lidded basket.

When she lifted the lid, the scents of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg permeated the air. Of all the pies Abigail could have brought, mincemeat was by far his least favorite. Besides, he recognized the braiding of the pie crust. As owner of Sallie's Café, Sallie Reed was arguably the best baker in Crystal Creek. Her pies were tasty, but it was her flaky, buttery crusts with its signature braiding on the rim that made it easily recognizable.

Apparently, Abigail either couldn't bake or didn't want to take the time to bake him a pie.

"Let's go and enjoy a slice."

Linc bit back a groan. Although he initially wanted nothing more than to stay home with the girls after two nights of company, the more he thought about the dance, the more he was looking forward to it.

And it was all because of Claire McAllister.

Scenes of last night's ornament-making party flashed through his mind. Spending time with her and the girls was relaxed, calm, and enjoyable. It was also less about her and more about being together as a family.

Unlike the strained, tense feeling he got when he thought about the evening spent with Abigail Tully.

Something like the niggling he was feeling now along his spine. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to give it much thought as Abigail bustled past him and headed straight for the sitting room.

"Rachel, be a dear and cut us a piece of pie. We will be sitting on the settee."

Rachel rolled her eyes and started to stick out her tongue behind Abigail's back. But after one look from Linc, she just frowned and took the pie and her sisters into the kitchen.

Abigail patted the cushion next to her on the settee. "Let's sit and talk, Linc."

"Look, Abigail, I don't have time to sit and talk in the middle of the day," Linc began. "Heck, me and the girls haven't had our noon meal yet. So, why don't you just tell me what's on your mind." He hadn't planned on being quick-tempered with the woman. But maybe it was for the best that she found out about him before it was too late.

Rachel reappeared just then, balancing two plates and two forks. "Here you go, Miss Tully. Will that be all?"

Linc didn't know whether to laugh or frown at his daughter's sassy tone. Either way, he would talk to her about it later. Right now, he wanted to know why Abigail came out to the ranch.

"The word around Crystal Creek is that you're looking to remarry. And since you asked me to supper two nights ago, I suppose that means I'm to be your new wife."

Linc felt the tips of his ears grow hot. He was unaccustomed to a woman taking the lead in such matters. To his way of thinking, he was the one to do the asking. "I suppose so."

She nodded after taking a dainty bite of pie. "I suggest we marry on New Year's Eve. After that, we can talk about the best time to put your farm up for sale. It would be silly to have two houses. Besides, with the money I earn from leasing out my properties, I can support us both. You wouldn't have to live so far from town and spend your days milking cows."

Put his farm up for sale? "Now hold on for a dang minute, Miss Tully. My wife, Katie, and I put every penny we had into buying this place. I built up my herd on this land. My babies were born in this house. This land is their legacy."

"Well, it's something we can think about," she said as if she didn't hear a word he said. "That is if you're serious about marrying again, Linc."

Was he serious about marrying? Absolutely. Was he serious about marrying Abigail Tully? He had been, but since kissing Claire last night, the mincemeat pie, and her absurd suggestion about selling the farm, it was looking less likely.

"Oh, there's one more thing. You aren't interested in having any more children, are you?"

Claire pulled her buggy to a stop behind the one already in front of Linc's house. Being Christmas Eve, she reasoned he and the girls were on their way to his mother's house. Grateful that she made it before they left, she set the brake and pulled the oversized hamper from the back seat. She had a few things for the girls, a batch of the shortbread cookies Linc enjoyed, and one or two surprises. After last night's kiss that curled her toes and kept her awake well past the bewitching hour, she looked forward to seeing him instead of leaving the hamper for him to find later.

To anyone who didn't know her, it appeared she was spreading a bit of holiday cheer. But for the Lord and the few who did, and that most definitely included Mary, her motives were more along the romantic lines.

Admit it, Claire McAllister, you are in love with Linc Wyse and his daughters. You can pretend all you want but we both know why you're going to the ranch instead of tending to your duties for the Christmas Dance.

So what if she was in love with Linc and the girls? Maybe her fondest prayer was to marry him and be a mother to his daughters. Maybe those gifts in the hamper given with love would prompt him to return her affections.

Surely the kiss they shared last night proved something was building between them. She'd never felt this way with anyone. Even with Drew. But short of flinging herself into his arms and defying the rules of propriety, how should a woman profess her love?

Perhaps with a hamper full of holiday cheer.

A fine mist of snow began falling as she reached the porch. She brushed off the flakes before she raised her hand to knock on the door. When no one answered, she lifted the latch and let herself in.

A comforting warmth swirled around her ankles from the fire crackling in the fireplace. Two half-eaten pieces of pie sat on the small tea table in front of the settee.

Her smile froze in place as Linc shot to his feet. He'd been sitting next to Abigail Tully. On the settee. The girls weren't in sight. An obvious situation for a couple to get to know one another better. And by Linc's fierce blush spreading from his neck to the roots of his hair, that's precisely what they were doing.

Claire felt her face grow hot with humiliation and anger at herself. "I—" she began, unable to get past the tangle of words in her throat envisioning the two of them together. "Here's some presents for the girls. I—I'll leave them—" She ran into the kitchen and returned to the front door in a heartbeat, a flash of wild misery ripping through her. She needed to leave. Now. For the spark of hope for a family had been quickly extinguished.

Linc reached for her. "Claire, it's not—"

"Happy Christmas, Linc." It wasn't until she was outside that she covered her face with trembling hands and gave vent to the agony of her loss.

The veil of snow that had begun earlier continued to fall steadily covering everything with a mantle of white. The Wyse girls would be happy. But all she could think about was Linc. Linc and Abigail. She was a step too slow.

Lincoln Wyse was in love with another.

"It's really coming down out there." Linc's voice held no inflection as he looked out the window. He marveled that he had any thoughts in his head at all after what had just transpired.

Claire had arrived unannounced with something for the girls for Christmas but appeared bothered by something. Could it be him and Abigail? Why would that bother her unless she had some feelings for him? She certainly responded to his kiss in a way he hadn't expected. Suddenly, a kernel of hope unfurled in his chest.

Abigail stood beside him at the window. "Goodness, it certainly is," she agreed. She ran her forefinger down the pane of glass, coming away with a streak of grime along with a look of dismay. "I should be going before the weather turns."

Linc nodded. He should have been embarrassed about the dirty window pane. Instead, it was Abigail's reaction that got under his skin. It was just another indication that she wasn't the wife he wanted or the mother the girls needed. "Abigail, there's been a mistake."

"I beg your pardon?" Abigail's head came up so quickly that Linc was certain she'd snapped a tendon in her neck. "A mistake? Just who has made a mistake, Linc? Surely, you're not suggesting I've done something wrong?"

"No," he quickly replied. Mentally, he added her snobbery to the growing list of not-so-attractive traits he'd want the girls to imitate. "It's me. There's been a change of plans."