Christmas morning brought snow, lots of it. Olivia’s first thought was that the Johnsons would be stuck there for a while. She smiled at the thought and hurried downstairs to help with breakfast.
Charity greeted her with a smile. “Merry Christmas, Olivia!” Benjamin looked up from his coffee and smiled too.
“Merry Christmas, Charity, Benjamin.”
“Merry Christmas,” Benjamin stood. “I gotta see to the chores.” He kissed Charity on the cheek. “Don’t let Sebastian open no presents.”
“I’ll try to keep an eye on him.” She glanced at the ceiling. “Thankfully none of them are up yet.”
“That’s ‘cause they probably didn’t sleep a wink last night.” He put on his coat and hat, kissed her again and left the kitchen.
Charity was frying potatoes. “Care for some coffee?”
“I’d love some.” Olivia glanced around the room. “What smells so wonderful? It’s not the potatoes.”
“No, Ebba’s making something special for breakfast. A recipe her grandmother used to make.”
Olivia’s stomach growled. “And I suppose it has icing and all sorts of other wonderful things?”
“Of course – it’s Ebba. Nothing like having a Swedish cook in the family.”
Olivia smiled and fetched herself a cup and saucer. She might lack cooking talent, but she wasn’t going to let that get her down. She could learn and, thank Heaven, from some of the best. “Can I help with anything?”
“Yes, could you run to the smokehouse and fetch me some bacon?”
“Sure.” She took a sip of coffee, went to the back door and took a shawl off a nearby peg. “I won’t be a minute.”
“Thank you!” Charity called after her as she hurried outside.
It was cold, and Olivia wished she’d grabbed a hat and scarf. But the smokehouse wasn’t far and a little snow wasn’t going to hurt. She got what was needed and hurried back to the house.
By the time she re-entered the kitchen, George was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Merry Christmas, Olivia,” he said happily.
Olivia’s cheeks warmed and not just from the toasty kitchen. “Merry Christmas, George.”
He smiled at her. “It’s snowing.”
She laughed. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that your head’s covered with the stuff. Why aren’t you wearing a hat?”
“I … was in a hurry.”
“Silly woman. Do you want to catch your death?”
She unwrapped the shawl from her shoulders and hung it up. “I only went to the smokehouse.”
“Oh well, I guess that’s not so bad.”
Charity set cream and sugar on the table. “Here you go, George, help yourself.”
“Thank you.” He spooned some sugar into his coffee. “I wonder if it’s going to snow all day?”
Charity and Olivia looked out the window. “It might,” Charity commented. She glanced between George and Olivia.
“Is that so?” George smiled. “Just think. My family and I could be here for days.”
Olivia hoped she wasn’t red as a beet. “Oh?”
“Yes, you could be stuck in this cozy farmhouse with Warren, Bernice, Grandpa and me. I hope we don’t drive you all loco.”
“Would take more than the four of you to do that,” Charity laughed. “Olivia, can you fry up the bacon?”
Olivia froze for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I can try.”
“I’ll help you,” George offered, standing up.
“No, no.” Olivia forced a smile. “I can handle a few slices of bacon.”
He smiled back and winked to boot. “I’m sure you can. Mind if I watch?”
She swallowed hard. “Not at all.” Please don’t let me burn it – or myself! she thought.
George peered over her shoulder as she put the frying pan on the stove. “I do love bacon,” he said near her ear.
Olivia thought she might die from the tingles racing up her spine. She managed to slice up the bacon and put some in the pan. “Could you bring me a plate from the hutch? I’ll need it when the bacon’s done.”
“Your wish is my command.” He took a step back and bowed.
Olivia laughed. “What are you doing?”
He smiled. “I find myself in an exceptionally good mood this morning. And why not? I’m on this lovely farm on Christmas with an even lovelier woman.”
Olivia gasped, then noticed Charity was nowhere to be seen. “The plate, please?”
George laughed as he brought the plate and set it on the worktable. “Fried potatoes, bacon, eggs, and what’s that other wonderful smell?”
“Ebba is making something special for breakfast. I have no idea what it’s called, only that it’s Swedish.”
“Bliss!” George exclaimed. “I could move in.”
Olivia laughed. “You would fit well here.”
“You do.”
She looked at him as she put the last slice of bacon in the pan. “I do?”
“Yes, a big family suits you. Lots of love and laughter and children running around.” He stepped closer. “It’s the perfect frame for you, Olivia.”
“Frame?”
“Yes, like a picture with you at the center.”
She smiled. “My … no one’s ever said that to me before. That I know of.”
“Someone should have.” He took another step closer. “In fact, I would imagine quite a few gentlemen have said such things to you.”
She met his gaze. “I couldn’t say.”
“I know, but that’s what I think. What man wouldn’t tell you such things?”
Olivia’s heart was beating so fast, she wondered if she might faint. He was so close, so handsome, and it was all she could do to stay upright.
“Olivia,” he said softly. “I couldn’t ask for a more perfect way to spend Christmas.” He reached for her.
“No!” she cried. Then, realizing the stricken look on his face, she added hastily, “not when I might burn myself.” She checked the bacon – and her dress – to make sure she hadn’t set fire to either.
“Oh. Sorry.” He took a few steps back, however reluctantly. “Oh, Olivia …”
“My Ungspannkaka!” Ebba said as she burst into the kitchen. She waved George and Olivia out of the way and opened the oven. “Oh thank goodness, it’s okay.”
Olivia swallowed hard and stepped away from George. Had he been about to kiss her?! More importantly, was she going to let him? She swallowed again, met his gaze – and almost swooned. Yes, on both counts. She licked her lips and took another step back, even as her heart wanted her to go forward, right into George’s arms. There was more than one way to get burned, it seemed.
Ebba took a pan out of the oven. “It’s perfect!”
Olivia looked away from George to the pan Ebba was hovering over. “It looks wonderful. What is oog-span …?”
“Ungspannkaka. My grandmother’s version anyway. I haven’t made it for a time. I hope I did it correctly. Now for a little something to drizzle over it.”
“I’ve heard of that,” George said. “Never tried it myself. But I hear it’s sweet and soft like a pancake and melts in your mouth like butter.”
Olivia smiled and looked away, her heart hammering. George wasn’t hiding that he had feelings toward her. But what good did it do either of them? He’d be leaving and she didn’t know who she was. Still, her heart wasn’t listening. And … “Oh no!” She hurried to the stove and turned the bacon before it could burn.
George, meanwhile, picked up his coffee and watched the women with amusement. Olivia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she sliced more bacon. Oh, he was enjoying this! She set the knife down and gazed back.
He smiled. “Need any help?”
Olivia closed her eyes. How was she going to fight this? He was so wonderful. She opened her eyes and looked into his again. They were full of admiration and wonder. “If you’d like.” She turned back to the stove, put more bacon into the pan and wondered if this day would be her undoing. Ma’s advice was becoming impossible to follow.
* * *
Halfway through breakfast, Olivia couldn’t decide who was in more danger of losing their mind, her or George’s grandfather. She’d found him on the front porch when breakfast was ready, talking to air.
“I know he’s falling in love,” the old man was saying. “But she needs more time.”
Olivia froze in the doorway and watched him.
“Albert, I’m doing my best. Nature is taking its course – isn’t that what you two wanted?” He looked back and forth, as if speaking to two different individuals. She tried to imagine a couple of people sitting or leaning against the porch rail, conversing with him.
“But he’s not coming for her. No one is,” Grandpa Johnson went on. “No one even knows where she is.”
Olivia cleared her throat.
Grandpa froze. “Oh, uh, is that you, Miss Bridger?”
She sighed and stepped onto the porch. “Breakfast is ready. You’d better get some before the rest of the family arrives.”
He turned to her and smiled. “Fancy that. Me and the boys were just talking about you.”
Her eyes flicked to the porch rail and back. “The boys.”
“Yeah, Albert, Bob and me. They think you and George make a fine couple. But …”
Oh dear, now what? she thought. “But?”
“But George might be getting ahead of himself. I thought it’s what Albert and Bob wanted, but …” He shrugged.
She glanced at the rail again. “Albert and … Bob?” He’d mentioned them before, at the Christmas dance – or was it at Doc Brown’s? Wait a minute … “George?”
“Yes. He’s falling in love, you know.”
She backed up a step. “I … well …”
“I know you’re overwhelmed. But give it time, you’ll get used to the idea.”
Her eyes went wide. “Mr. Johnson, I think you’d better come inside. It’s freezing out here and you’re not wearing a coat.” And you’re making too much sense.
He patted his chest as if checking. “Well I’ll be, I’m not.” He turned to the porch rail. “You two behave yourselves. I’m gonna go have me some breakfast.” He nodded at the rail a few times, turned and went inside.
Olivia pressed her hand to her temple. She didn’t want another headache. She followed Grandpa Johnson into the house, the words he’s falling in love, you know ricocheting around her head.
“Mama, more bacon, please!” Five-year-old Sebastian held up his plate and waited for Charity to give him another slice. Her daughter Truly was busy smashing Ebba’s “Swedish pancake,” as George called it, into and on her face as she sat on her father’s lap. Esther, Daniel and Ebba’s baby girl was doing the same. George himself was talking with Ma while Samijo and Arlan fixed plates for their children. Any moment now Calvin and Bella would be here with their family.
She watched Daniel quickly fill his plate, smiled and took a seat next to Grandpa. “Would you like me to fix you a plate?”
“No thanks, I can help myself.” He reached for the huge pan of fried potatoes.
Meals at the Weavers, even without company, were loud and boisterous affairs. When Calvin, Bella and their tribe showed up, it was pure chaos. And surprisingly, Olivia loved it. She wondered why, then stopped questioning altogether. What was the sense in worrying about it? For all she knew she’d come from a large family too and was used to the yelling, screaming, joking, teasing and joviality.
She ate in silence as Bernice and Warren joined them. Rounds of “Merry Christmas” went around the large dining room and into the kitchen and parlor. With this many people in the house there wasn’t space to fit everyone in one room to eat. Charity told her earlier that she and Benjamin were thinking of building a house and letting Daniel and Ebba stay in the big farmhouse with Ma and Harlan. They hadn’t yet, but with Olivia there and Warren and George visiting, the need was becoming clear.
Olivia watched George take a piece of bacon. He caught her watching him and saluted her with it. She laughed. He smiled, took a bite and chewed.
Trying to talk to him across the table wasn’t going to happen with all the noise around them. Instead she gave him a look that said, I’m thinking of you. He returned the look and she blushed.
He’d been about to kiss her in the kitchen, she was sure of it. Had Grandpa seen them? Why else would he be saying those things on the porch earlier? George was his grandson, after all. Did the old man think he was moving too fast? Was talking to invisible friends his way of telling her to be careful and not lose her heart to the man?
Olivia took a bite of potatoes. Wouldn’t that just figure? No doubt Grandpa’s invisible friends agreed. They didn’t want the couple becoming too lost in one another either.
She set her fork on her plate and pushed it away. Grandpa was right – given her circumstances she’d have to put a stop to this whole thing before she lost her heart completely. If that happened, George would go back to Oregon City and break it. And what business did she have letting the man fall for her? She couldn’t remember anything past her name!
Sebastian climbed off his chair. “Mama, may I be excused?”
Charity laughed. “Yes, you may. But don’t touch any presents until the rest of us are ready.”
Sebastian, already hurrying for the parlor, stopped and pouted. “Aw, Mama.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Olivia volunteered. Best she get away from George for a few moments. It was all she could do not to stare at him like a lovesick calf.
“Thank you,” Charity said. “I’ll clear the table, then take care of the dishes when we’re done with the presents.”
Forcing herself not to look at George, Olivia followed Sebastian into the parlor and sat. Most of the children were already there, hovering around the tree like vultures. She smiled at the sight. Even the older boys and Rufi were eyeing the wrapped packages beneath the branches. Once more she felt bad that she hadn’t anything for the family. But what could she do? Yet she had to repay their kindness somehow. The question was, how?
“Olivia?” Arlan and Samijo’s daughter Autumn called from the floor to the right of her chair.
She looked down at her. “Yes?”
“Do you think you’ll stay with us?”
Olivia felt herself go cold. “I … I don’t know, sweetheart. I may have to go … home.”
“Where’s that?”
Olivia’s chest tightened. “I don’t remember.”
“She’s a princess,” George said as he sat next to Autumn on the floor. “And princesses have to travel all over their kingdoms to make sure the people that live there have enough to eat and a warm place to sleep.”
“George!”
He smiled as Autumn’s eyes grew, staring at Olivia with her mouth hanging open. “Is that true?” the little girl asked.
“Oh yes,” George said before Olivia could argue.
“Is that why you’re here?” Autumn asked and smiled at her.
“George,” Olivia muttered.
“What?” he said innocently. He turned back to Autumn. “As soon as she’s done with her inspection, she’ll return to her kingdom.”
The child’s eyes lit up. “Can I go with you?”
Olivia put her face in her hands. “George …”
George laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible, sweetheart. It’s far, far away – you’d never be able travel there and back in one day.”
Autumn’s face fell. “Oh.”
“But I’m sure you’ll have lots of things to do after Olivia is gone,” he consoled.
“Like what?”
George smiled at the little girl. “Like play with your Christmas presents.”
Autumn jumped to her feet and headed for the tree.
“Clever,” Olivia stated. “But why did you tell her all that? Now she’ll keep bringing it up.”
“Would you rather I told her you had no idea where you live?”
Okay, he had a point. “No.”
“There you are, then.” He looked up at her and nodded regally. “I have saved the fair damsel.”
She looked at him, smiled and realized that he had.