Page 9 of On a Midnight Clear

Angel enjoyed walking from store to store with Vincent and the children. For the first time, she felt like a family. Ava held fast to her hand, while Vincent acted as a shield for them whenever rowdy cowboys or other rough-looking characters approached.

Vincent even surprised her by accompanying her to the fabrics section of the mercantile. He waited patiently, pointing out an occasional material that he liked while the children searched out the toy section of the store.

“Do you remember that ugly quilt that I had on my bed at Granny’s house?” Vincent’s voice held a note of amusement.

Angel easily remembered the piece. “I do. It was done in browns and grays and greens. Just simple squares sewn together.”

“Yes. Did you realize Granny taught me to sew by piecing that together?”

“No!” Angel stepped back in surprise. “You made that quilt?”

“I swore her to secrecy. She said it was important that I learn to sew a straight stitch, and she could think of no better way than to make something useful. She had a lot of old dark scraps of material that she was saving for a crazy quilt but decided they’d work well for me.

We cut out six-inch squares, and I spent all winter sewing them together.

Then Granny and I tied it. I was mighty proud of my accomplishment, of course, but I couldn’t tell anyone that I’d made it. I was too embarrassed.”

Angel shook her head. “Granny is an amazing woman. I can’t imagine getting Benjamin to do something like that.”

“Well, maybe you should. Or I should. It’s served me very well knowing how to sew a straight line.”

“I suppose we could try.” Angel found the idea to be both humorous and terrifying. It was hard enough to teach Benjamin routine things.

Close to noon they approached the small two-story home of Bert and Myra. Myra was a most gracious hostess and ushered them inside and out of the cold.

“Goodness, go warm yourselves by the fire. Lunch is nearly ready.” She noted Vincent carried one valise and Benjamin a small bag. “Just put those things there by the door. I’ll show you where to take them after a bit.”

Angel couldn’t help noticing that there wasn’t a square inch of the front room wall that didn’t have something nailed to it in display.

There were dozens of small, framed paintings.

Landscapes, mostly, in varying sizes from a few inches square to much larger.

Along with these were playbills tacked with pins, framed tintype pictures of various people, and what looked like Christmas ornaments and other knickknacks hanging in between.

“What a beautiful room. Look at all the memories on the walls,” Angel said, hoping she wasn’t offending.

“Bert painted most of the pictures,” Myra told her. “He used to sometimes paint when he was out in the field tending sheep back home.”

“Where was home?” Angel asked.

“Ohio. We were born and raised there. Our father was well known for his sheep.”

“How wonderful. We raised merinos in Nebraska. I’ve known Vincent since I was very young. We grew up together. His grandmother helped care for me after my mother died.”

“And now here you are married to him. There must be comfort in knowing each other’s past,” Myra said almost reverently. “I couldn’t abide marrying a stranger, so I’ve never married.”

Angel felt a moment of sadness for the woman. She was probably in her fifties, maybe early sixties, and had never known the love of a husband. Would the same hold true for Angel?

She glanced across the room where Vincent was talking to Bert about something.

The children were warming up by the fire and pointing to various things on the wall.

Angel drew in a deep breath and forced herself to listen to Myra as she explained who the people were in one of the tintypes.

A deep sense of longing tried to rear up, but Angel shoved it back down. The homey setting was taking its toll.

“And that is our grandmother sitting in front of our parents,” Myra said. “This was taken just before the war began. They died within three months of each other. I tell people not only soldiers died in that war. Other hearts were stopped as well.”

Angel nodded. It would seem Myra and Bert had dealt with a great deal of sorrow in their lives.

After a lunch deserving of high praise, Myra led the way up narrow and extremely steep steps to the small single upstairs room where she told Angel and Vincent they would stay.

“The bed is quite comfortable. I slept here once, so I know it’s true.” She smiled and squeezed past Angel and Vincent to reach the stairs. “It’s a very tiny room, as you can see, but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

Vincent waited until Myra headed back downstairs before speaking. He gave a most apologetic look Angel’s way.

“I’m sorry about this. I figured I could sleep on the floor, but obviously there’s not room for either of us to do that.”

Angel shook her head. “We are married. There’s no problem in sharing a bed.”

“No. No problem.”

But later that night, neither one of them was quite so sure that was the case.

Angel had let down her hair and changed into her nightgown before sliding under the covers.

Vincent returned a few moments later from washing up.

He glanced for a moment at Angel and seemed unable to look away.

She gave a nervous smile and pressed up against the wall on her side.

It was easy to see, however, there was no way they could sleep together without touching.

Vincent blew out the lamp. Angel could hear him undressing and wondered if he would rid himself of everything or leave on his long johns. When he got into bed, she was relieved to realize he had done the latter.

He immediately turned on his side, facing Angel.

They both realized the mistake of this, as their faces were just inches apart.

Without a word, Vincent turned to lie on his back, but so did Angel.

She couldn’t contain her laughter and immediately put her hand over her mouth, lest they hear it downstairs.

She turned to her side, pressing her face into the pillow. The entire situation was too funny.

Vincent let out a snort of laughter and turned on his side once more. “This is an impossible situation. I don’t think we have much choice but to accept the matter. Otherwise, we’ll never get any sleep.”

“Oh, it’s all right, Vincent. Honestly. I don’t mean to laugh so much.” She fought to contain her amusement at their obvious discomfort. “It’ll be fine.”

He chuckled softly. “I agree. Good night, Angel.”

“Good night, Vincent.”

She could feel the warmth of his body taking away her chill. Her heart seemed to pound even faster. She was in bed with a man. A very handsome man.

She chided herself in silence. He’s your husband. Stop being such a ninny .