Roses for Mama Page 13

  “Could you come over Christmas Eve? We’d love to have you join us. We always exchange our gifts and read the Christmas story and discuss our memories of other Christmases. Then we have popcorn and pull taffy and—”

  “Angela,” cut in Carter, “I meant just the two of us.”

  Angela bit her lip. She had not even thought of it being just the two of them. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t think I can do that. It’s important for us to all be together on Christmas.”

  Carter looked upset but he still pressed. “What about the evening of Christmas Day?”

  “We always stay late at the Andrewses’, and if the weather is nice we go for a sleigh ride.”

  “The evening before Christmas Eve?”

  Angela thought about that. There was no reason Carter couldn’t come calling on the twenty-third.

  “That would be fine,” she agreed and gave him one of her smiles.

  ———

  The days slipped by quickly and Angela scarcely had time to finish her baking and her gift-making before Christmas was upon them. She had seen Carter twice a week in the intervening time and he always made special mention of the evening of the twenty-third. Angela felt that he was gently reminding her that she had put her family before him, but she held firm and gave him a smile whenever he mentioned the coming evening.

  He still had not discussed the trial, and Angela did not have the courage to bring up the subject.

  When the twenty-third arrived Angela dressed carefully in her blue voile. She had not worn it since Hazel’s wedding. She smoothed the skirt over her slender frame and studied herself in the mirror. The dress, in its very simplicity, did become her. She turned to the task of pinning up her hair, leaving little tendrils to gently curl against her cheeks. Then she fastened Thane’s cameo about her neck and looked again at the total picture.

  “Well,” she said to her reflection, “that’s about as good as it’s going to get. I can’t do much more.” And so saying, Angela went downstairs to make sure the parlor fire had been lit and that the refreshments were ready for later.

  Carter came promptly at eight. Angela ushered him inside, noting the cold gust of air that accompanied him.

  “It’s dreadful out there!” she gasped. “What a horrible night to be out.”

  Carter laughed and allowed her to take his heavy coat and his hat. Angela hung them up while he greeted the other family members.

  Then she beckoned him to the parlor. “Come in and warm yourself by the fire,” she invited, and he followed her into the room.

  “It is cozy in here,” he observed as he seated himself on the sofa. Angela moved to place another log on the cracking flames.

  “Come,” he invited. “Sit here beside me and we’ll enjoy the fire together.”

  Angela accepted his invitation.

  “Now,” he said taking her hand in both of his, “tell me what you have been doing to get ready for Christmas.”

  Angela felt that it would be a rather boring account so she countered, “Most of my time has been in the kitchen. You tell me what you have been doing instead.”

  “Well—I made another trip to the city,” he offered.

  Angela noted the gleam in his eyes. “Business?” she asked.

  “No. Pleasure,” he answered, and he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her fingers, studying her carefully as he did so.

  Angela did not withdraw her hand—nor did she flush with embarrassment.

  “I think that if I ever went to the city it would be for pleasure also.”

  “You have never been to the city?” he asked.

  Angela shook her head.

  “Then we must right that,” he said, kissing her fingers again.

  “So-o,” said Angela. “Are you going to tell me all about your pleasurable trip?”

  His dark eyes flashed. “I’d love to,” he said, so softly that she barely caught his words. “I went to the city shopping—just in case a certain lovely lady I know accepts my offer of marriage.”

  Angela’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She almost withdrew her hand.

  “Well,” he prompted. “Do you? Will you?”

  “Are you—?” began Angela.

  “I am asking you to be my wife.”

  “But I—I never dreamed—”

  Angela stopped short. She had dreamed. Well, sort of. But she had not really prepared herself for anything like this. This seemed so soon. So sudden. So unreal.

  He pulled her close and kissed her cheek, letting his lips brush her hair and linger near her ear.

  “Will you, Angela?” he asked again. “I am still waiting for your answer.”

  Angela pulled back and looked into his eyes. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am sure,” he whispered.

  “But—but don’t you think it’s too soon? Have we known each other long enough? Do we know each other well enough?”

  “Angela, I know all I need to know about you. You are the sweetest, most caring, most unselfish woman I have ever met. And on top of that, you are lovely to look at. What more could any man want? What could we possibly gain by waiting? Please, don’t put me through that agony. I need you with me.”

  “Oh, Carter, I do so want to do the right thing. I do want to make you happy.” She stared into his dark eyes. “Yes, yes, I will marry you. I will be happy to be your wife.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her. Angela had never been kissed in such a way before. She felt the blood rushing through her body, pounding at her temples. For a moment she felt faint.

  So this is how it is to be in love, she thought, and she lifted her lips so he might kiss her again.

  I’m getting married. I’m getting married, her heart sang. Oh, if only Mama were here now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  News

  It wasn’t until morning came that Angela realized the seriousness of her commitment. She was about to announce her good news at the breakfast table, but when her eyes traveled from one face to another she bit her tongue. Thomas was impatient to get off to town before the weather had a chance to delay him. He had a hog to sell, and the price he got would determine the kind of Christmas the family would be celebrating. Derek, Louise and Sara were riding along into town to do their own Christmas shopping.

  Louise fussed as she dished out the porridge. Her hair had not cooperated when she pinned it up. It looked precarious to Angela even now, in spite of the many combs attempting to hold it.

  Derek was quiet again. Angela had told herself that he was gradually coming out of his shell, but on this particular morning he seemed withdrawn. Angela felt herself tensing up as she looked at him.

  Sara bubbled as usual, completely oblivious to the moods of those about her. Her whole little body bounced as she went about her morning task of setting the breakfast table. And while she bounced, she talked—a steady stream that seemed to get on Louise’s nerves even more than usual.

  “Sara, why can’t you ever be quiet?” Louise demanded at last, flipping her head impatiently.

  It was the wrong thing for her to do. Rolls of hair came tumbling down about her ears, causing Thomas to snicker in spite of himself. With a wail, Louise headed for her bedroom, hair streaking out behind her as she fled.

  Angela gave Thomas a look of reproach, then retracted it with the hint of a smile. Louise did look pretty funny.

  Sara stopped her chatter long enough to look from Thomas to Angela and back again, her eyes asking what would happen next.

  Angela finished serving the porridge and then quietly slipped from the room to see if she could get Louise, and her unruly hair, back under control.

  Now is definitely not the time to share my good news, she decided as she headed for the bedroom and the sound of sobs.

  “Louise.” She spoke softly as she approached the distraught girl. “Louise?”

  The only response was louder wailing.

 
“Louise.” Angela tried again, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing back the tangled hair. “Don’t get your eyes all red and swollen. I can fix your hair, but I can’t do much to help puffy eyes.”

  Louise seemed to be considering the comment, for her crying diminished some.

  “Come. I’ll try pinning it. Hair can be terribly obstinate—until it gets used to being up. Let me see if I can fix it for you.”

  “I’m not going to town,” wailed Louise.

  Angela sat in silence for a moment and then responded with a firmness that surprised even herself. “Oh yes you are. You still haven’t done your shopping. And if you don’t, it will spoil everyone’s Christmas. A few locks of unruly hair are not going to keep you from it. Now, get yourself up. You’ll be mussing your dress.”

  Angela took the girl’s arm and gave it a gentle tug.

  “But, Angela,” protested Louise, “my eyes are already red and swollen.”

  Angela could not be so easily put off. “You have a long ride ahead—and it is sharp this morning—with a brisk wind. By the time you get there, your eyes will be back to normal—or else red and stinging like everyone else’s.”

  Louise hoisted herself up on her elbows and gave Angela a disdainful look.

  “Right now,” Angela said sharply. “You are making the others late.”

  Louise arose and settled herself at her vanity but refused to pick up her mirror or give Angela directions as to how she wished her hair pinned.

  Angela tried to ignore the pouting girl. She swept the thick hair back with the stout brush and gathered it neatly together in the palm of her hand. Then she began to twist and lift, pinning as she went. In a few moments the task had been completed and Louise couldn’t resist just a tiny peek in the mirror.

  She made no comment, but Angela caught the flash of satisfaction that crossed her sister’s face before she could hide it.

  “Now—mop up your face and come for your breakfast,” Angela said. “The rest will have finished by the time we get there.”

  Louise was not the only one who avoided eye contact when the two returned to the kitchen. Angela was afraid that if she observed a twinkle in Thomas’s eyes she might not be able to hide a titter of her own. Nor did Angela want the incident to trouble Derek further. And Sara would be watching for the tension to ease so she could resume her chatter, and Angela wasn’t quite ready to listen to more prattle about incidental things.

  So Angela crossed to the stove, brought back the bowls of porridge meant for her and her younger sister, and settled herself at the table without lifting her eyes.

  The others had finished. Angela gave a slight nod to recognize the fact and then said, as softly as her tense throat would allow, “You may all be excused.”

  “But we haven’t had our morning Bible story,” objected Sara, and Angela’s eyes did lift then. She looked quickly at Thomas who sat, Bible in hand.

  “So we haven’t,” she admitted, a flush touching her cheeks. Then her look turned to one of beseeching. “We are late,” she said simply. “Perhaps this once you could read while we eat.”

  Thomas nodded and began the morning reading. By the time he was ready for prayer, Angela and Louise had finished their porridge and were sitting with hands neatly folded in their laps. They prayed together.

  After the door had closed on the four family members, Angela dropped back into a kitchen chair, coffee cup before her.

  What will Carter think of all of this? was her first thought. Well, he did ask me to marry him. I didn’t just dream it, she reminded herself, and then another thought quickly followed. It’s going to be so—so wonderful to have someone to share the responsibility of caring for the family. I know I have always had Thomas—but he can go now—go away to do the work he has always dreamed of. He will be so happy—

  Tears formed in Angela’s eyes. She would miss Thomas. They had been so close. Had worked together for so many years as a team, raising their younger siblings.

  She brushed impatiently at the unbidden tears. “Here I am, on the happiest day of my life, sobbing like a buffoon,” she scolded herself. “Why, I should be singing my way through the morning chores—and here I sit crying in my coffee.”

  Angela decided not to drink the second cup of coffee, after all. She took the cup to the slop pail and poured out the contents, then turned her attention to the morning dishes.

  “It is just that the morning did not start out well,” she informed herself. “Things will soon be right again.”

  She cast a worried look toward the kitchen window. The sky had darkened and a stiff wind was blowing.

  I do hope Thomas makes it to town and back before it storms. And I hope the children are bundled up warmly enough against the wind. I wonder if Louise wore her muffler. She is getting so full of silliness that she’d rather freeze than be thought out-of-style. Oh, dear! What will I ever do with the girl?

  Angela’s mind turned to prayer. “Lord, you know how hard it is to be growing up. And Louise seems to be having a particularly bad time with it. How can I help her, Lord? Mama would have known just what to do and say—but I stumble along and make so many blunders. Give me wisdom, Lord. Give me wisdom. With Louise. And with Sara. Give me patience with her constant chattering, too, Lord. And with Derek and his buried grief. Help me, Lord. And help me to pick the right time to share with them the news that I am to marry. May they be just as excited about a new home as—as I will be—as I am.”

  Angela did not say Amen. She knew her prayer might be taken up again many times throughout her day.

  ———

  In the afternoon, Angela was surprised to see Thane. He had been out their way delivering groceries to the Widow Thorson and had decided to drop in, he said. Angela pushed the kettle forward and prepared a cup of hot lemonade to help take the chill from his bones.

  They chatted and laughed as old friends. Then he said he must get home since the day before Christmas was always a busy one in the store. As he left, Angela called after him that she would be seeing them all on the day following, and he called back that he hoped it wouldn’t storm and prevent them. Angela turned again to her preparations for the family evening.

  The family arrived home in a flurry of excitement and much laughing and bantering as they headed for bedrooms to wrap gifts before the evening gift exchange. Angela called out orders as to chores to be done before supper. The girls responded good-naturedly, but Derek was still quiet and withdrawn. Angela was relieved that Louise had returned to good humor—probably something to do with the fact that she had been given a nice compliment on her hair by Claude Sommers. Sara shared the news and, though Louise shrieked and scolded, Angela was sure Louise was secretly pleased that Sara had told.

  The stock was cared for, the woodbox stacked high, and extra water carried from the well before they gathered around the kitchen table, where the lamp cast a soft glow on wind-chilled faces and the kitchen stove sent out waves of warmth.

  Angela looked at the little circle of family. Everyone was relieved to be in out of the cold and most anxious for the evening’s festivities—simple as they were.

  Angela had taken special care with the meal. The chicken was fried just the way Thomas liked it. The biscuits were high and fluffy. The peas had been creamed to suit Sara, and there was cranberry sauce to please Louise. The fruit cake was especially for Derek.

  “Are we having company?” asked Derek, casting a furtive glance about.

  Angela laughed. “Who would come out on a night like this?” she asked, and Derek just shrugged his slim shoulders and looked relieved.

  “Thane used to,” put in Sara.

  A hush fell on the room and all eyes turned to Angela.

  “Why doesn’t he come anymore?” went on Sara, wistfulness in her voice.

  “Why, he comes. He stopped by for a few minutes today.”

  Angela thought she saw a smile play about the corners of Thomas’s mouth, but he made no comment.

  Sara did not
let it pass. “He did? And I didn’t see him,” she mourned. Then she went on. “But he doesn’t come much. He used to come—lots and lots. Why doesn’t he do that anymore?”

  “I—I don’t know. He’s—he’s been very busy helping his father expand the store, I guess,” said Angela. “He says they are finally done with it. He’ll have more time now.”

  “I miss him,” continued Sara. “I haven’t had any lemon drops for—for just years.”

  “Sara!” Angela scolded. “I hope that Thane means more to you than lemon drops.”

  Sara fidgeted in her seat, but Derek raised his eyes to Angela’s.

  She could feel a probing, a questioning, and she wondered what he was thinking. She felt like squirming under his gaze, yet didn’t know why. To Angela’s relief he dropped his eyes to his plate.

  “Did you fight?” asked Louise bluntly.

  “Who?” asked Angela, knowing full well whom she meant.

  “You. You and Thane.”

  “Of course not! What do you mean? Why would Thane and I fight?”

  “Well, he used to come see you all the time and he doesn’t anymore,” said Louise with a shrug.

  “He—he didn’t come to see me. He—he came to see us—all of us,” Angela protested, her cheeks flushing.

  “Oh no,” denied the chattery Sara. “He used to come to see you. I know. I saw him looking at you.”

  “Don’t talk foolish,” Angela hushed Sara as she rose to replenish the chicken platter that was still piled high.

  She had planned to share her proposal with the family over the supper table, but now did not seem like a good time to declare her news.

  “Sara, that’s enough chatter,” Thomas said softly. “Stop your talking and clean up your plate or we’ll all need to sit and wait for you.”

  Angela noticed that each family member still had a full plate. Sara was no slower that the rest of them, yet she felt thankful that Thomas had put a stop to the conversation.

  ———

  “What is it?” Thomas asked when the two of them sat alone at the kitchen table sharing the warmth of the stove and the dim light of the lamp. The taffy-pulling and popcorn-making was over for another year and each gift had been exchanged and received with proper fuss and appreciation. The three younger children had been sent off to bed, with Angela and Thomas left to clean up the kitchen and then catch their breath.