Olivia, Charity and Ebba stepped back to admire their handiwork. “I think this is the prettiest tree we’ve ever decorated,” Charity said.
Benjamin entered the parlor, went straight to his wife and put his arm around her. “You ladies have outdone yerselves. Who’s gonna put the star on this year?”
Charity kissed him on the cheek. “You are.”
Olivia twisted her hands in front of her, caught herself at it and put them behind her back.
But not quickly enough. “Something wrong?” Ebba asked.
“Nothing. It really is a beautiful tree.” It was at least ten feet tall, almost reaching the ceiling, and they’d needed a ladder and chairs to reach the topmost branches. It would definitely take one of the men to put the star on. Her heart warmed even as she felt the sting of despair. She didn’t understand the odd mix of emotions and brushed a tear away.
“Olivia,” Charity said. “Are you all right?”
Olivia nodded. “I think so. I don’t know why I’m crying – there’s no reason for it.”
Charity left her husband’s embrace and went to her. “Maybe it’s reminding you of something?”
“I have no idea what.”
Ebba too went to Olivia and gave her a hug. “I hope those are happy tears.”
“I hope so too,” Olivia said. “But to be honest, I don’t know.”
Harlan entered the room. “Is something the matter?”
“Olivia might be remembering something but she isn’t sure,” Ebba said.
“Is that true?” he asked Olivia.
“I don’t know,” she groaned, stepped out of Ebba’s embrace and walked toward the tree.
Harlan and Benjamin exchanged a glance. “I got an idea,” Harlan stated, joining her. “You know, since Doc Brown said to give it time to get your memory back …” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Back home in Clear Creek, we got a doc that’s kind of special. I was thinking of maybe taking you there to see him.”
Olivia stared at him in shock. “But Mr. Hughes, you don’t need to go through all that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble if I’m gonna visit anyway – which I do from time to time. Besides, maybe you’ll start getting your memory back. What could it hurt?”
“What’s this?” Benjamin said. “Ya plannin’ a trip, Harlan?”
Harlan smiled, stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked toe-to-heel. “Might be.”
“What’s this about a trip?” Daniel asked as he entered the parlor. He stopped and stared at the tree. “Wow.”
“Indeed.” Harlan grinned. “Now that the tree’s decorated, how about some cookies? I wouldn’t mind a snack before supper.”
Olivia went to the window, pushed the curtain aside and stared outside. “Do you think they’ll come?”
Charity joined her and peered out as well. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be here in time for supper.”
Olivia turned from the window. “And if they don’t show up today?”
“They’ll get here in time for supper tomorrow. Guaranteed.” Harlan chuckled. “Now if you ladies don’t mind, I’m gonna mosey on into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of coffee and wait for you to bake me some cookies.”
Ebba put her hands on her hips and laughed at him. “We already baked cookies!”
“And hid them from me,” Harlan countered. “Now tell me where they are or I’ll have your husband tickle you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Ebba shot back.
Daniel lunged toward her. Ebba slapped his hands away with a squeal of delight and raced out of the room, Daniel hot on her heels.
Olivia laughed. “Never a dull moment.”
“True,” Harlan sauntered off.
Olivia turned to Charity and Benjamin with a smile, but they weren’t smiling back. They were staring at her like she was a stranger – an unwanted one. “Is … something wrong?”
“No.” Benjamin brushed past her, heading for the kitchen.
Olivia watched him go, then turned back to Charity. “What was that about?”
Charity went to a chair and sat. “You’ll have to excuse Benjamin. Really, you’ll have to excuse all of them.”
Olivia sat in the chair next to it. “What do you mean?”
Charity opened her mouth, paused, and finally said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Olivia thought a moment. “Did something happen at Christmastime to this family? Something … tragic?”
“No, not around Christmas. Not that I know of.”
“Then what is it?”
Charity shook her head.
Olivia could tell the woman had backed herself into a corner, but didn’t understand why. “Charity …” She stopped as something outside caught her eye. “Oh mercy! They’re here!”
“What?” Charity turned to the window. “My goodness, how did they get here so early?” Both women hurried out onto the porch. Olivia waved at the Johnsons as she hurried down the steps.
George greeted her with a wide smile. “Good afternoon!” he called as Warren brought the wagon to a stop. He hopped off the seat and went straight to Olivia. “Surprise.”
“How did you manage to get here so early?” Charity asked. “We weren’t expecting you for a few hours at least – if not tomorrow.”
Warren set the brake and climbed down. “George insisted we leave at the crack of dawn.”
“And so we did,” Bernice handed Warren the baby. He in turn handed him to George so he could help Bernice down.
“Are we there yet?” Grandpa said as he sat up in the wagon bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Well I’ll be, we are.”
Olivia and Charity laughed. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Johnson!” Charity said.
“Thank you,” all three men replied.
The women laughed again as the rest of the family began to spill out the front door. “Land sakes, Warren,” Ma said. “How hard did you drive that team of yours to get here?”
“Not too hard. George insisted we leave extra early.” Warren winked at his cousin. George just laughed.
Calvin laughed too and arched an eyebrow. “And I take it Christmas eve supper wasn’t the only thing that got you on the road early?”
Ma smacked him on the back of the head. “Calvin!”
He rubbed the spot. “Sorry, Ma.”
Everyone looked at George and Olivia, who were staring at each other in adoration, not even trying to hide it. Ma put a hand on her stomach and sighed. “Well, unload and come inside before you catch your death.” She glanced at the sky. “If my guess is right, it’ll snow tonight.”
“Did you hear that, Olivia?” George said.
Ma made a show of clearing her throat.
“I mean, Miss Bridger? If it snows, we’ll have a white Christmas.”
“Doesn’t it snow where you come from?” Ma asked.
“Some flurries this time of year. But Oregon City has a much milder climate. Few white Christmases there.”
Ma headed for the porch steps. “Well, you’re getting one this Christmas. Now come inside and warm up.”
Olivia helped Bernice with the baby and ushered them into the parlor while the men unloaded the wagon. “Can I get you some coffee?” she offered.
“Could you? I’m frozen clean through.” Bernice set Alston on a chair and began unwrapping him.
Olivia laughed as the baby kicked and squealed at his mother. “He seems a happy sort.”
“Oh yes – he’s much warmer than I am. But I’m sure he needs changing by now.”
“You can use my room if you’d like,” Olivia said. “It’s the first one on the right at the top of the stairs.”
“Thank you, I will.” She lifted Alston, grabbed a small sack she’d brought in with her and headed for the stairs. “I won’t be a moment.”
“Take your time. When you come back down we’ll have coffee and cookies waiting.” Olivia headed for the kitchen, where Ma, Harlan and Ebba were busy pouring cups of coffee and putting cookies on plates.
“Where’s Bernice?” Ma asked.
“She went upstairs to change the baby.” Olivia reached for a cup. “I think I’ll take this to her. Poor woman is frozen half to death.”
“You do that, child.” Ma waved her away.
Olivia grabbed some cookies as well and headed upstairs, sensing everyone’s eyes on her as she left. She wondered what kept drawing their attention. Were they hoping something would trigger her memory? She did too, but with the Weavers it was different – as if they were waiting for something to happen and were nervous about it. But why would it be?
She set the thought aside as she hurried upstairs to give Bernice her coffee and cookies.
* * *
Supper consisted of stew and biscuits – the big dinner would be tomorrow, Christmas day. Olivia did her best not to stare at George throughout the meal but still managed to catch glimpses here and there. Several times she caught him looking at her with a quirky smile on his face. She smiled back twice, noticed Ma watching them and refrained after that.
She wanted to take the older woman’s advice, but was finding it impossible. George filled all the little holes in her heart, making even her memory loss insignificant. How he did it, she didn’t know, but she liked it. He made her feel comfortable, peaceful, like she’d found what she’d been looking for after a very long time.
“Please pass the biscuits, Olivia,” Ebba said.
Olivia handed her the bowl, Ebba took one and passed the bowl to Daniel, who took two. All the Weaver men were hearty eaters. Olivia smiled at the thought and took another bite of stew.
“This is delicious, Mrs. Weaver … I mean, Hughes,” George said.
“Like I told you before, just call me Ma,” she said. “Makes things simpler for everyone.”
“Ma it is, then,” he said. “These biscuits are light as a feather.”
Charity smiled. “Thank you.”
“You made them?”
“Yes. But Ebba made the stew.”
He looked at Olivia, smiled again and her cheeks grew hot. She suspected he wanted to sample some of her cooking tomorrow. Little did he know her culinary skills were limited – she’d discovered that over the last few days. She might manage some cookies, but pies and other holiday fare were beyond her ability. Ebba was baking a ham, Bella was making some sort of Italian dish – ravioli, she called it – and the rest of the women were handling everything else.
No, she knew little about cooking, and little about making presents. She’d wanted to give the Weavers something for taking her in and caring for her, but all she was discovering were the things she couldn’t do: cook, sew, bake for the most part, mend. What sort of life had she led before?
One thing she did have was a nagging feeling of desperation, which hadn’t truly left her since she woke up at the Gundersons’ stage stop. It was always lurking around the edges of her mind and heart. But why? What happened? She’d obviously been traveling somewhere when the Weavers found her, but where?
George patted his belly. “That was wonderful.”
“Yes, very good, ladies,” Warren added.
“It’s nice to have a break from cooking,” Bernice said. “But you’ll let me help you tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure how much help we’ll need,” Ebba said. “Charity, Bella and I can handle most of it well enough.”
“Then you’ll let us help with the children, at least?” Olivia asked. She felt a twinge of apprehension, and wondered if she was inept at child care too. Well, she’d done well enough so far with the kids …
Ebba smiled. “That’s always welcome. Bella will especially like that. So will Rufi.”
Olivia smiled in relief. At least she’d have a job to do. She looked around the large dining room table. Calvin, Bella and their family were eating at their own house, as were Samijo and Arlan. All of them were coming to the main house later for dessert and to allow the children to each open a present. The rest they would open tomorrow after morning chores were done. The younger children could hardly wait. The babies were too young to understand what was going on but would still have fun.
She was looking forward to tomorrow, but dreading it as well. She felt bad not having anything to give the family. All she could offer were two working hands to let them use as they saw fit while she was there.
Her heart plummeted. What if she never got her memory back? She couldn’t stay with the Weavers forever. She was an extra mouth to feed, a body to house – even if she pitched in and helped every day, would it be enough? And what about George? Her affection for him was only getting more intense, but he was leaving in a few days. The best she could hope for would be to enjoy his company while she could. Then he’d be gone and she’d be back to square one.
She sought his face, needing his smile in that moment. He was her rock in this violent storm of confusion, not knowing who she was, what her life had been like or where she’d been going. When she was with him, the fear and frustration stopped and peace surrounded her. But what would happen when he left?
“Olivia, do you mind helping me with the dishes?” Ebba asked as the family began to leave the table.
“No, of course not.” She got up, looked at George and smiled. “We’ll make some coffee, get a few things cleaned up, then have dessert when the rest of the family arrives.”
“That sounds wonderful,” he said, looking around the dining room. “This is a good-sized house. I like it.”
“Do you own a house in Oregon City?”
“No, we have an apartment over the shop. The furniture store is in the front of the building, the workshop’s in the back, and our place is upstairs. It’s pretty large, though – three bedrooms.”
“My, that is nice for an apartment,” she agreed.
“Do you … remember where you lived?”
She shook her head and stepped away from the table.
“That’s all right. I’m sure you will in time.”
She shrugged. “I hope so. When I think about it, I feel … disjointed? Like I had no real home at all.”
“Perhaps you were a mysterious gypsy,” he teased.
She smiled. “I’m hardly the type. A gypsy can take care of herself – I can barely make coffee.”
“Perhaps you forgot how?”
“You’re giving me an excuse, but I can’t take it. I wish I could.”
He got up and walked around the table. “Olivia, don’t fret. You’ll get your memory back. It just takes time.”
“How much time?” Olivia winced – that had come out more desperate than she’d wanted it to. “Well, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
He took her hand. Ebba was still in the room, clearing away the dishes, but she just smiled at them, looked away and continued her work. “Be patient,” he said gently. “Things may begin to come back a little at a time. But they’ll come, I’m sure of it.” He patted her hand and released it.
She wished he hadn’t let go. “Thank you for the reminder. Sometimes I feel such despair.”
“Oh no, not that. Never feel that.”
“I can’t help it. It just comes.”
He took her hand again. “Let me help you.”
Her eyes rounded to platters. “But you’re leaving.”
He bit his lip and looked away. “Maybe not right away.”
“What?” she whispered as her heart leaped.
“I … could stay awhile.”
“But …” Ebba had left the dining room by now. They were alone. “But George, you can’t stay here forever.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stay a little while. From the sound of it, there are plenty of folks in town that want me to do some work for them, and Clarence can handle things back at the shop.”
“But … what can you do to help me? You can’t make my memory come back.”
“No, I can’t, but I can at least offer my support. And even once I’m gone, we can write to each other.”
And there it was. He’d have to leave eventually – Oregon City was his home, not Nowhere. She swallowed the lump in her throat. For a moment, however small, she thought he wanted more, that he was staying for her, to get to know her better …
“Olivia, can you help me now?” Ebba asked from the kitchen doorway.
“Yes, of course.” She pulled her hand from George’s. “I have to go. Why don’t you join the others in the parlor? The rest of the family will be here soon.” She left him standing there and went to help Ebba with the dishes.