CHRISTMAS DAY
DECEMBER 25, 1863
Aletta dressed hurriedly, scarcely able to wait for Andrew to get downstairs and find his gift waiting beneath the tree. But the boy was still fast asleep. She’d ordered his gift from a mercantile in Nashville and had feared it wouldn’t arrive in time, but it had. She only hoped it would meet with his expectations. Especially this Christmas.
She paused and looked at him, his little chest rising and falling with easy slumber. Recalling how the auction had drawn to a close yesterday in a grand celebration with a bonfire and Christmas carols, and special sweets for the children, she knew he’d sleep for a while yet.
How had the two of them come to be among such fine, good people whom—up until only a handful of weeks ago—she’d never even met? Same for so many of the women she’d gotten to know through the Women’s Relief Society—women she shared so much in common with. How often she’d questioned God’s goodness and doubted his provision. But in this moment, she could see it. God’s hand. And even though she didn’t know what the future held, she knew who held it.
And somehow, she could even feel Warren’s love in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. As if responding to her thoughts, their child within her moved.
Patience, little one . . . I’ll tell you all about him as you grow up.
She heard movement in the kitchen and knew Tempy was already awake. But when she rounded the corner and saw who was seated at the breakfast table, coffee cup in hand, she realized she’d been mistaken. Happily so.
“Merry Christmas, Jake. You’re up early.”
He smiled. “Merry Christmas. Is he up yet?”
She shook her head. “Still sawing logs. Are you hungry?”
“Always. Want me to do the eggs?”
She passed him a bowl in response, and he went straight to work.
“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” Tempy said a few minutes later when she walked in to find the breakfast ready and waiting.
Aletta hugged her tight. “Merry Christmas, Tempy.”
“Merry Christmas, Missus Prescott. I just checked on him, and he’s still sleepin’.”
Aletta poured the coffee. “Thank you both for being so excited about this with me. I think he’s going to love it!”
Jake just winked.
Together with Miss Clouston who joined them, they enjoyed eggs, bacon, and Aletta’s angel biscuits. Then Aletta and Tempy started on the family’s Christmas brunch while Miss Clouston and Jake went on upstairs.
No sooner did Aletta hear the patter of Andrew’s footsteps on the staircase behind her than she heard the thunder of Winder’s coming down the front stairs.
“Andrew!” Winder yelled. “You got something under the tree!”
Andrew let out a whoop and both boys shot up the stairs, headed for the entrance hall.
“Wait for us!” Aletta called, tossing her apron aside.
To her relief, Jake was guarding the tree—one boy under each arm. And Miss Clouston was opening the curtains.
Hattie flew down the stairs, followed by the Colonel and Mrs. McGavock, already dressed. Same for Mrs. Winder and Mrs. McGavock’s cousin, Miss Templeton, who were still with them. They all exchanged greetings, then each of the children burrowed beneath the tree to find their present.
Andrew pulled out a box wrapped in blue paper. “This one has my name on it, Mama!”
“So it does.” Aletta smiled, watching Andrew stare at the box for the longest time even as Winder and Hattie had already opened their gifts.
“Santa brought me a doll!” Hattie held up a beautiful porcelain-faced doll then hugged her tight.
“Look what he brought me!” Beaming, Winder help up a box full of painted toy soldiers all standing at attention, perfectly in a row.
Aletta looked back at Andrew. “Aren’t you going to open yours?”
Andrew nodded, then tore into the package, and Aletta could hardly wait to see his reaction.
He held up the box, a smile on his face. But it wasn’t the smile she’d expected.
“It’s a train,” he said. “A blue one.”
Aletta knelt beside him. “I know it’s not the color you wanted, but it’s got cars that attach and the locomotive even has a bell that rings.”
He nodded. “I like it!” But she could see that it wasn’t what he’d wanted, and her heart fell.
Miss Clouston distributed the rest of the gifts beneath the tree, then paused. “Andrew . . .” She glanced at Aletta, a question in her gaze. “You have another gift, dear. But it’s in the tree. And this one . . . isn’t wrapped.”
Andrew put down his train and walked over. He looked at where Miss Clouston pointed and his face lit. “My train! This is the train Papa promised me!” He pulled a little red engine from the branches of the tree. “And it’s red. Just like I wanted!”
Confused, Aletta joined him, and Andrew held up the toy, a tag bearing his name hanging off the smokestack. “All really good trains are red, Mama,” he said, as though everyone should know that.
The train was hand carved, not nearly as detailed as the one she’d ordered from the Nashville mercantile, and it had no railcars and certainly didn’t make any sounds. But when she turned the train over and saw the writing on the bottom, she felt the prick of tears. I love you, buddy, Jake.
She read the inscription aloud, and Andrew’s eyes lit. He raced over to Jake, who knelt and hugged him tight.
“I love my train!” Andrew drew back. “Does this mean I get to call you Jake now?”
Jake looked across the room at her, much like everyone else, and Aletta smiled. “I imagine that would be just fine.”
Andrew gave a loud shout and went to show Winder his red engine. Aletta joined Jake, who stood quietly off to the side.
“How did you know?” She searched his gaze. “That was the kind of train he wanted? And that he wanted red?”
“I didn’t. But that’s the kind of train I had when I was his age. Besides . . . aren’t all really good trains red?”
“Mama, it’s snowing!” Andrew called, racing back into the entrance hall.
Sure enough, Aletta looked outside and saw big, fat flakes of snow drifting down. Watching the children peer out the window, she turned beside her. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”
“My pleasure, Aletta. And I have something special to share with you later today too. It’s a Christmas gift, of sorts. But we’ll need to ride into town to see it.”
“Into town?” She eyed him. “Well then, Tempy and I best get back downstairs and finish getting brunch—” Her breath caught. She grabbed Jake’s arm for support. “Oh . . .” She grimaced, a sharp pain arcing over her belly.
“Aletta!” His arm came around her waist.
“Oh, Missus Prescott.” Tempy came alongside her. “Are you all right?”
Aletta’s breath came in short, sharp gasps.
“Mrs. McGavock!” Jake called. “Come quick! Please!”
“I’m coming. Is something—” Mrs. McGavock stopped in the doorway, eyes going wide, same as Miss Clouston’s. “Oh my . . .”
“I think . . . the baby’s coming,” Aletta ground out, her legs giving way.
Jake caught her and lifted her in his arms.
“The Colonel’s and my room upstairs,” Mrs. McGavock called. “And I’ll ask the Colonel to ride for the doctor straightaway.”
Aletta groaned as Jake carried her up the stairs and laid her on the bed. She felt the telltale rush of warmth issuing from her womb and closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing, the memory of Andrew’s birth returning in vivid detail.
“Aletta”—Jake leaned close—“it’s going to be all right. We’re here with you.”
She breathed through the contraction, feeling the pain begin to subside even while knowing it would return.
“I love you, Aletta. I want you to be my wife. And no matter how long you need, I’ll wait for you. Do you hear me?”
“Of course I hear you,” she finally whispered, opening her eyes. “I’m right here, after all.”
With a wry smile, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and deep. Already breathless, she filled her lungs and looked into his eyes.
“Jake, we might have to . . . delay that trip to town for a day or two.”
“That’s all right. It’ll still be there.”
Another pain began to build, and Aletta curled onto her side, fisting the bedcovers.
“Captain Winston!” Mrs. McGavock’s voice rang out with authority. “It’s time for you to leave now, sir. A woman in labor is not a woman of a mind to—”
“Jake,” Aletta ground out, breathing through the pain, waiting for it to ease.
“Yes, my love, I’m here. I’m right here.”
She reached for his hand and he held hers tight.
“You won’t,” she whispered, “have to wait for me long.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead just before Colonel Carrie and Tempy chased him from the room.