Page 28

“I think we both have special memories, and I think we should combine them to make our first Christmas memorable.” She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t point out that he might find someone else before then.

He looked at Evan. He couldn’t possibly miss the eagerness in the boy’s eyes. He turned back to Annie. “That sounds like a wonderful plan. You’ll have to tell me what to do, though.”

“We’ll all work together.” Her mind whirled with what they could do. She thought of how Kenny had read Hugh the Christmas story. They could make figures to illustrate that. “We can start today if you like.”

“It’s almost a month away.”

“I know, but think how much fun we can have for a whole month.”

His expression could be best described as doubtful, but Evan’s was so hopeful she knew it was the right thing.

“What are we doing today?” Hugh asked.

“The Christmas story. Wait here.” She hurried through the cold living room and realized the storm still blasted outside. She chose to believe that God had given them this interlude so they could grow together as a family.

She returned with paper, pencils, and scissors. “Let’s draw the figures of those involved in the Christmas story.”

Hugh snorted. “You don’t want to see my drawing.”

“It’s not for public viewing. It’s for us. And making it is half the fun. What do you want to do? The wise men, the shepherds, sheep...?”

He stared at her. “You’re not joshing?”

“Nope. I’m perfectly serious.” Did he catch the referral to perfect? She wanted him to acknowledge she was perfect in her role of mother and would be equally perfect as wife.

“Evan, why don’t you come and join us? Grandfather?”

Grandfather leaned forward. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll carve some animals. Can you find me a scrap of wood?”

“I can do it.” Hugh jumped up, just a little too eagerly in Annie’s view. He found several pieces of wood and took them to Grandfather. “Can you teach me?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “So much for drawing the figures.”

“This is even better. They’ll last.”

“There’s that.” She liked the idea of something they could cherish in the years to come. “Evan?”

The boy looked from his papa to Annie. She quickly sketched out the outline of a sheep. “You can color this, and then I’ll find some wool, and you can glue it on to make a real sheep.”

“A real pretend sheep?” Hugh asked.

She laughed. “I’ll glue the figure to a piece of wood so it will last.”

Evan climbed to his chair and took the colored crayon she handed him.

The set had been a gift from Annie’s mother two years before her death, and although Annie cherished each crayon, she couldn’t think of a way she would sooner see them used than in Evan’s little hands.

He held the crayon awkwardly. She wrapped her hand about his and showed him how to make blue marks on the paper.

It didn’t matter if he scribbled. As she’d said, she would later cut out the sheep and glue it to wood.

The tip of Evan’s tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his task.

She drew three more sheep, and then turned to see what Grandfather and Hugh were doing. Grandfather had the rough shape of a camel. Hugh might have been making the same animal, but it was hard to tell.

He glanced up and saw her watching. “It’s harder than it looks.”

She knew her eyes revealed her amusement and hoped he wouldn’t be offended. She knew he wasn’t when he chuckled and turned the bit of wood round and round.

“I can’t tell which is up or down.”

They both laughed; their gazes caught and held, and she couldn’t remember what she meant to be doing.

Grandfather touched Hugh’s hands. “If you whittle away a bit here and here...” Hugh blinked and looked at what Grandfather showed him.

Throughout the day, they continued to work on the animals, pausing for soup at dinnertime. Evan colored a bit after the meal and then wandered off to play with Happy but always returned to see what Annie was doing.

She’d decided to make human figures of those in the Christmas story out of fabric and sticks.

She didn’t rush the project. It was too pleasant to be working together on something, anticipating the pride and joy of the finished product.

As they worked, they talked. Grandfather always had lots of stories, and they seemed to draw out Hugh, who shared stories of his early days when he’d first begun his ministry.

“I remember getting lost on a hot summer day when I had set out to visit a family with a dying grandfather. I had run out of water. Could see no rescue, no help, nothing to direct me.”

She held her breath. Obviously, he’d survived, but it frightened her to think of his situation.

Grandfather’s hands had grown still as he listened to Hugh. “How’d you find your way out?”

“I took shelter under a lone tree and sat down to think and pray. I was discouraged. Things had not been going well for me.” He shrugged. “I suppose you could say I was a little like Elijah sitting under the juniper tree waiting to die.”

Annie knew the story of how the prophet had been fleeing for his life and begged to die. “What happened?”

He gave her a grin. “I fell asleep just like Elijah did and...” He trailed off, the gleam in his eye informing her that he meant to tease her. She remembered Elijah had been visited by an angel but didn’t think Hugh would have had the same experience.

She turned back to her drawing, pretending it didn’t matter.

Grandfather chuckled. “Put the poor girl out of her misery. You realize she’s holding her breath, don’t you?”

Annie sucked in air.

“Dusk had fallen when I woke up. I saw a campfire in the distance and rode to it. A weathered old man watched me ride up and demanded to know if I was lost. I said I was and told him where I wanted to be. He said I was ten miles off course, and he would take me there in the morning.” He sat back with a pleased look on his face.

“Turned out he was the man I was supposed to go visit. He said reports of his fatal illness were greatly exaggerated.”

Annie laughed, as much from sheer relief at Hugh’s safe rescue as from amusement.

At suppertime, she gathered all the supplies into a basket. The day had passed in a pleasant glow of togetherness. This was exactly what she hoped would happen. “We’ll work on it again later.” She’d save it for times when they could all be together.

Hugh woke up the next morning and lay listening. When he heard the wind still battering the house and the snow pelting against the walls, he smiled. It still stormed, shutting them in. It was wrong to be glad of a dangerous storm, and he prayed that God would keep everyone safe.

Being together like this offered something he knew wouldn’t have been possible under normal circumstances.

An opportunity to kiss Annie? Though it seemed not to have held much meaning for her. She hadn’t even mentioned it.

Yesterday, her enthusiasm for Christmas had proven to be contagious. He wanted a Christmas to remember. And one for Evan to recall with fondness, just as Hugh had one with Kenny that he’d never forget.

He’d ended up with a carving that almost resembled a camel. It had only taken Grandfather a few minutes to make it believable.

Hugh lay in the cold dark, feeling pleased with life at the moment. The feeling couldn’t last. Knew he should be resisting it. But that was the thing about the storm...it made impossible dreams possible.

Doggy breath and a wet kiss startled him from his daydreams. “Happy, do you want out?”

The puppy whined.

Evan scrambled to his feet and into his clothes.

Since his bath, he’d changed into a nightshirt at bedtime.

He rushed to the little room at the end of the hall to relieve himself, and Hugh hurriedly dressed and took Happy to the door to let him out.

He waited with the door closed until he heard the puppy whine then let him in.

Happy’s icy feet clattered on the floor as he raced to the mat and sat shivering, giving Hugh accusing looks.

“Hey, it’s not my fault it’s storming out. But okay. I’ll get the fire going.” He stirred up the embers and added wood.

Annie stepped into the room, shivering. “You beat me up this morning.” She quickly prepared a pot of coffee.

“Thanks to Happy, who wanted out. Now look at him, sitting there with big sad eyes because he blames me for turning him out in the cold.”

“Poor puppy,” she crooned, rubbing Happy’s neck and patting his head. Happy wriggled with joy.

“Poor puppy? He has it pretty good, I would say. He could be out in the woodshed.”

She patted his arm. “Poor Hugh. Are you feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Of course not.” Except maybe he was. Why should Happy get that kind of attention? He stared at the coffee pot, willing it to boil. Once he had a hot drink, he wouldn’t be jealous of an innocent puppy.

Grandfather limped into the kitchen just as the coffee boiled. Hugh poured two cups of the hot liquid and carried them to the table.

“Storm will last another day,” Grandfather announced.

“Huh.” Hugh didn’t dare put any sort of emotion into his grunt. Another day of storm. He couldn’t complain.

Annie hummed as she prepared breakfast. Evan and Happy had heads together looking at the little stuffed dog that Annie had made.

He saw Evan’s lips moving, but the boy didn’t speak.

He’d never heard Evan say a word. Would he ever talk?

A great sense of failure swept through him.

Was it his fault…his failure…that affected the boy rather than his recent conditions?

He kept his eyes on the contents of his coffee though he ached to look to Annie seeking some kind of reassurance.