Frankie was a bit taken aback, never before seeing Grant in ill-humor.

“We were …Mr. Everett sent for some food…we just finished with the applications,” stammered Frankie.

“You have food! And you didn’t share!” accused Grant.

“Would you like some—”

Grant took the bowl from her hand, helping himself to some of Frankie's stew and grabbing a fistful of bread from the loaf.

“Do help yourself,” said Frankie dryly.  

“Thanks,” mumbled Grant through bites

“But what about the poor children,” said Frankie, suddenly realizing they must also be fed.

“They had their dinner. Didn't want to take food from the mouths of babes.” Grant took another hearty bite. 

“How goes things with the pageant?” asked Everett. 

“Ghastly,” moaned Grant. “Have no idea how Genie does it.” Grant’s wife was at any moment expecting their first new addition to the family and so was not able to bring her calming presence to the festivities.

“Would you like us to help?” Asked Frankie.

Grant gave her a desperate grin. Minutes later she was surrounded by a cacophony of chaos in a large school room they were transforming into a makeshift performance hall. Teachers yelled commands, angels ran around the room in fighting formation, shepherds whacked each other with staffs, the innkeeper cried with a skinned knee, and Joseph sat in the corner and sucked his thumb.

Grant motioned to the disconcerting scene with a helpless gesture and ran off to round up the marauding angels. 

“Look out!” cried one of the older lads as long wooden rod crashed down from the rafters.

Everett and Frankie ran over, relieved to find no one injured.

“I was trying to string up the rod so we can put up a curtain for the show,” explain the lad, staring up at a rope, dangling from the rafters.

“I may be able to help,” said Everett, pulling on the dangling rope to ensure it was sturdy. He shrugged out of his jacket, revealing his burgundy waistcoat and shirt sleeves. He grabbed hold of the rope and much to Frankie’s surprise, pulled himself up hand over hand until he quickly reached the beam above, where he swung himself up and over until he was straddling the timber.

“Now tie that rod to the rope and I’ll pull it up,” shouted Everett.

“Yes, sir!” The lad sprang into action and Everett pulled up the rod, trying it in place. The curtains followed, and Everett hung them with quick, sure movements.

“Have a care!” Frankie shouted, even as she marveled at his strength and ease of movements. Frankie’s mouth was still open in surprise when Everett lowered himself back down to the floor.

“How did you do that?” she demanded.

Everett shrugged. “Sailed many years. Climbing up and down the sheets became second nature.”

“You were in the Navy?”

“After university I joined the Navy for a short time, then sailed with Lord Captain Darington.”

“Darington!” Frankie looked at Everett in a new light. “Lord Darington was a…that is to say…they call him the Pirate Earl!”

Everett only laughed. “Do they now? Rest assured Darington was no pirate.”

“But you were…”

“Privateers.”

“I see.” Little wonder the man before her looked nothing like a school teacher. She had never known a teacher who was a former privateer.

“I hope I have not diminished in your estimation.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said quickly. Too quickly. She took a breath to slow herself. “Lord Darington has made quite the impression on society, though he does not converse much. In truth, I always felt a little intimidated around him.”

“He is a reserved person, but there is none whom I’d rather follow into battle.”

“Did you go into a great many battles?”

“Aye, we saw action. Darington made sure of that.” Everett motioned for them to step back to the edge of the room, out of the way of the swirling activity around them. Odd but she could not hear anyone’s voice but his. “Probably not for young ladies’ ears.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Every time the conversation becomes interesting I’m told I should not be in it.”

Everett laughed and leaned his shoulder on the wall next to her. “How dreadful.”

“You laugh, but you would not like it if it happened to you!”

“I dare say I would not.” His blue eyes twinkled at her, making her forget her train of thought.

A child ran by, bumping into her, knocking her off balance. Her hands flew to his chest for support. He caught her around her waist to steady her. “Easy now.”

Her heart beat fast at the sudden intimacy, his hands remaining on her waist. The air crackled between them. “I…I…” her mind went blank. She stared at his lips.

“I believe I have met, or at least my aunt wants me to meet, a Sir John who also sailed with Darington.” She was babbling, falling back to small talk, not knowing what to do. “Have you met?”

Everett gave her a curious look, cocking his head to one side. “I…that is…”

“You often seem to be divested of your coat,” said Grant, breaking the spell, Everett’s coat dangling from one finger. Frankie had not even noticed him walk up to them.

Everett dropped his hands and Frankie jumped back, trying not to look as guilty as she felt.

“He climbed the rope to fix the curtains.” Frankie tried to explain. “And then I got pushed and—”

“Oh no, do not tell the tale, I should rather let my imagination run wild.” Grant gave Everett a look that spoke more than words.

Everett paled as he took the coat and redressed himself.

“Perhaps you can help the teachers round up the shepherds,” continued Grant to Everett. “If they don’t all have black eyes by the performance it will be a miracle.”

“Do you want me to help?” asked Frankie.

“I think I shall have you stay with me,” said Grant slowly.

Frankie did not argue. Being found twice with Mr. Everett in his shirtsleeves was more than even Uncle Grant could bear.

An hour later, Frankie sat on a bench between Grant and Everett, surrounded by plain townsfolk, most likely relations of the children in the play, as they watched the performance. Considering the chaos earlier in the day, the performance went better than Frankie expected.

The pageant followed the normal course of the Christmas story, but never had Frankie enjoyed it more. When it came time for the Angel of the Lord to announce the birth of the Christ Child, Georgie ran on stage with a fearsome cry, rushing at the poor shepherds like a gladiator of old. The shepherds were quite taken aback, stumbling out of the way of the charging angel, knocking over the wooden sheep.

At the end, when Mary and Joseph were revealed in the stable, Frankie was surprised that some mother had allowed her baby to be used in the performance, the wriggling infant giving a loud cry before settling into the arms of the young housemaid they had recruited to play Mary. Unlike any other nativity play she had seen, it was humble and raw, and probably a good deal truer to the real event. This was how baby Jesus entered the world. His parents unwanted in the town, unable to find a room, staying in a stable. Humble and poor, yet Son of God.

Emotion welled in her throat, though she could not quite name it. A sense of peace and contentment flowed through her. This was where she belonged.

After the performance, Grant walked her to the door of the school, leaving her briefly with Everett as he went to call for the carriage.

“Thank you for allowing me to be of assistance today,” said Frankie, knowing she must go but wishing she could stay longer.

“No, it is I who am in your debt. Thank you for all your help,” replied Everett, he smiled, then his eyes clouded. “I feel I must tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I…that is…I really enjoyed spending time with you,” he finished in a rush of words.

“I did as well.”

“Come along then,” called Grant, coming up to escort Frankie back to the waiting coach. “Can’t keep the horses standing in this cold.”

“If you should need any further assistance, please let me know,” said Frankie.

“I will, indeed,” said Everett, helping her into the coach.

She had only one thought as they rolled back home.

I wish I could spend more time with Mr. Everett.