Page 49

“They’re here!” Evie came running into the kitchen. She’d kept watch at the front window for the past half hour, her eyes trained on the street while she traced designs into the frost that coated the panes.

The house was full of delicious smells. Ham and roast turkey and Christmas pudding. Every dish Sara could remember from her childhood. Mrs. Hobbes had been busy for a week, enlisting Sara and Evie in all the chopping and mixing required to prepare the feast.

Sara rushed to the front door in time to welcome her father and Henry as they entered in a rush of frosty air. James was already shaking Papa’s hand and taking his heavy wool coat to hang in the front hall.

Henry stood behind him, wrapped in a new navy coat with shiny brass buttons. “May I take your coat, Master Henry?” James said, turning to the boy.

Henry crossed his arms. “I’ll keep it on, if it’s all the same to you.”

Sara hid a smile. “I don’t blame you. What a handsome coat.”

“Christmas present,” Henry said, straightening his shoulders.

Ballantine glanced down at the boy and shook his head in mock impatience. “Nonsense. Can’t wear a coat in the house.” His voice held a gruff fondness that warmed Sara’s heart. “Best take it off.”

Henry hesitated another second before carefully peeling it off and handing it to James.

His eyes followed the coat to the hooks on the side of the hall as though he didn’t want to let it out of his sight.

In the year since he’d gone to work for Sara’s father, he’d evolved from errand boy to something closer to godson.

He spent his mornings with Ballantine’s secretary, copying ledgers and deciphering contracts, before summarizing the day’s business for Ballantine over luncheon.

Evie grabbed Henry’s arm and dragged him into the parlor to show him the contents of her Christmas stocking.

“And we’ve got a present for you, too,” she said.

This distracted Henry enough for him to forget the coat.

Sara returned to the kitchen to help Mrs. Hobbes get the meal on the table.

The excited voices of Henry and Evie filtered back, underscored by the deep rumble of her father and James.

Sara paused, a spoon full of dressing in her hand.

She’d never dared hope to have such a Christmas, all the people she loved together in one place, the bonds of family growing stronger with each week that passed.

They’d decided to stay in Toronto, and she was grateful.

Thanks to her father, Osgoode’s role in James’s downfall was made public and the man had fled the city in disgrace.

Though her father urged James to take over Osgoode’s wealthy clients, he’d stayed true to his decision to help the poor and spent his afternoons at a tiny office in Irish Town.

Henry’s eyes bulged at the table full of delicacies as they sat down to the Christmas feast after sending Mrs. Hobbes off with a basket of treats for her family. Finally, it was time for the pudding. Sara carried it to the table and reached for a taper.

“Wait!” Evie cried. “We must all make a wish. You start, Grandpapa.”

Silence fell over the table. Sara met James’s eyes across the table, an amused glance passing between them. It hadn’t taken Evie long to adopt Sara’s father and it warmed her heart to see the bond growing between them.

“Well, I...” Ballantine cleared his throat, and Sara was shocked to see the sheen of tears in his eyes. “I suppose I wish I could convince this stubborn son-in-law of mine to move house, but I don’t expect that to happen anytime soon.”

Ballantine had tried to convince James and Sara to move in with him. Sara’s hand crept to her middle under the table and she smiled a secret smile. The move might happen sooner than he thought.

Henry wished for fine sledding weather, and James prayed the proposal he’d presented to the assembly would move swiftly through Parliament.

Then it was Sara’s turn. “I don’t have a wish,” she said softly, looking around the table and meeting the eyes of each dear member of her family in turn.

“Little more than a year ago I was alone in the world. I though I’d been abandoned by God and family.

” She swallowed back the swell of emotion that threatened to clog her throat.

“Now I’m blessed beyond anything I could have imagined.

” She sent a misty smile to James, deciding to wait and share her news with him in private later.

“I suppose I must be Rebecca after all,” she said.

Evie perked up at this mention of a character from her beloved Ivanhoe .

Evie nodded wisely. “Because you healed me when I was sick.”

Sara’s smile widened. “Yes, but also because I am like the herb which flourisheth most when trampled upon . I couldn’t see then that there would be an end to my time of trouble, but now—” She swept her arm around the table.

“Now I’m blessed beyond measure.” Her gaze fell on Henry and she passed him the taper. “Why don’t you light it, Henry?”

Instead of grabbing the taper, Henry frowned, his eyes darting from the taper to the pudding with suspicion.

“Why do we want to start it on fire? Won’t be no good charred to a crisp.”

Evie leaned closer to Henry. “I used to worry the same thing,” she confided. “But don’t you worry, only the brandy burns off, and no one would want to taste that anyway.” Evie made a face to signify her distaste. “Go on, light it.”

Henry reached out a hesitant hand and touched the lit taper to the pudding, which burst into low, blue flames that lit the darkened room, illuminating the faces around the table.

Henry’s eyes grew wide with wonder, Evie laughed and clapped her hands together.

Papa watched the children with fond indulgence, and James watched her, a slow smile spreading across his face.

I love you. He mouthed the words and Sara felt her heart swell with so much love, she thought it would burst.

Sara served the pudding, drizzled with sweet, dark sauce.

“Can I have more?” Henry asked, as soon as he could speak.

Papa cleared his throat and Henry straightened in his seat. “That is, may I have another serving?”

“Or we could move to the parlor,” James suggested, his eyes dancing. “I heard there might be presents.”

Henry looked so torn that Sara took pity on him and gave him a small second serving before promising he could also take some home. The party rose to move to the parlor, where Papa had left a gift for Evie. James had brought down their gift for Henry as well, a handsome edition of Ivanhoe .

As they settled into the parlor, James stood at the window, his gaze far away in the twilight. Sara slipped her hand into his. He turned his head and pressed a surreptitious kiss to her brow.

“It’s almost too much, isn’t it?” she said.

James gave her a rueful smile. “How do you guess my thoughts?”

Sara leaned into his side and brought his hand to her belly. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Papa, Mama, come on,” Evie called from the hearth. “We’re waiting for you.”

Sara turned back to the cozy scene. Her father sat in the armchair before the parlor fire, watching Evie and Henry with a contented smile. She tugged at James’s hand to pull him with her, but he stood unmoving as a boulder, staring at his hand pressed against her.

“James?”

“Does this mean what I think it does?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She nodded.

James wheeled about, tugging her to the privacy of the kitchen, and Sara knew a moment of sickening doubt. Perhaps she should have waited until they were alone to tell him. Amelia’s labor had been a horrible tragedy. Perhaps he didn’t want this baby.

Then James’s voice, incredulous, broke through her fear. “A baby?”

Sara nodded, her lips pressed together. She’d promised herself she’d be content with the blessing of James and Evie for as long as she lived and hadn’t dared to ask for more.

The promise growing inside her was a gift beyond her wildest dreams. But perhaps James wouldn’t see it that way.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve known for a week or more.

I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was afraid. ..”

His arms came about her, warm and solid, cradling her head into his shoulder.

“I’m afraid, too,” he whispered into her ear.

His arms tightened around her. “But more than that, I’m hopeful.

” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “What did Granny tell you?” he said after a long moment.

“A time to weep and a time to laugh...” He stepped back to look into her face.

“A time to mourn and a time to dance.” She sighed and nestled back into his arms with a smile. Granny had been right all along.