A Season of the Heart. Dorothy Clark

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      The pile of worn clothes and pieces of fabric on the settee looked higher. She seized on the opportunity to talk about a neutral subject. “It looks as if you’ve gathered more material for making the costumes.” She lifted her skirt hems and stuck her right foot out closer to the fire to dry her damp stocking.

      “Yes. Matthew brought more offerings home with him after his round of visits to sick parishioners yesterday.”

      A long sigh followed Willa’s words. Ellen glanced over her shoulder. Willa was fingering the top garment, a look of frustration on her face.

       Some of us don’t have the luxury of sitting around idle.

      “Willa.” Her friend looked over at her. “You are always so efficient, I can’t believe you can’t manage to make the costumes, but if you need me—”

      “I do, Ellen. Truly, I do.”

      She lowered her gaze from Willa to the pile of fabric and tried to remember the last time she’d done any sewing. “All right, then. I’ll help you.” Doubt over her ability to do so rose with the declaration. Her face tightened. She shouldn’t have allowed Daniel’s words to goad her into offering to help.

      “Oh, Ellen, truly? What of your preparations for your suitors’ visits?”

      The perfect opportunity to back away from her offer without losing face! She drew breath to explain she wouldn’t be able to help after all and glanced up—there was such a hopeful look in Willa’s eyes. The recantation died unspoken. “Mr. Lodge and Mr. Cuthbert will be staying at the Sheffield House when they come. And Mother will arrange any entertainments. I have only to look fetching and be charming while they are here.” She brushed her hand down her skirt. “Not that I can manage that in this old green wool dress.”

      “You don’t need fancy gowns to look beautiful, Ellen.”

      She looked down at her dress, eyed the plain bodice and the long full skirt devoid of tucks or ruffles. “Thank you, my dear friend. But I’m afraid Mr. Lodge and Mr. Cuthbert would not share your opinion.”

      “Then they do not deserve you.” Willa sank onto the settee next to the pile of old clothes. “I can’t thank you enough for offering to help me, Ellen. I’m sure I don’t know how I would have managed the costumes and the decorations and— The decorations.”

      She stared at Willa’s aghast expression. “What decorations?”

      “I forgot....” Willa rose, crossed the room and stood looking out of a snow-encrusted window.

      “What have you forgotten?”

      “To ask Daniel to make arrangements for the pine boughs. I’ll never have time to get the wreaths and swags finished now.” Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t leave the baby, and I can’t take her out in this weather to go and ask Grandfather Townsend if he will donate the branches. And Matthew is too busy to help me make the decorations even if he does.”

      “Why, Willa! I’ve never heard you speak in such a discouraged way.” She stared at her friend’s dejected posture, uncomfortable in the position of comforter. She was always the one being cosseted. “Of course you will manage. You always do.”

      “I’ve never been the wife of a pastor with two children and a new baby at Christmastime before.”

      Willa’s defeated tone tugged at her heart. “Even so, everything will be all right. I’ll help with the decorations, as well.” Had she lost her mind?

      Willa turned and looked at her, hope in her eyes. “Are you certain, Ellen? With your beaux coming—”

      “We’ll make the decorations before they arrive. I’ll take Father’s cutter out to Butternut Hill to ask about the pine boughs today. I’ve been wanting to see Sadie anyway.”

      “But the snow, Ellen... You can’t—”

      “Of course not. I’ll have Asa drive me. I’ll leave as soon as I’m warmed. Meanwhile...” She stepped to the settee and lifted a threadbare brown wool dress from the pile to distract herself from the panic building at her rash offers. “This would serve for a shepherd’s robe.” She glanced up as Willa joined her, reading relief and something more in her friend’s blue-green eyes—satisfaction? Willa truly needed her. It was an odd sensation. She had always been pampered and taken care of. No one had ever needed her. She tilted her head and smiled. “I assume there is a shepherd?”

      “Yes. And the Three Wise Men. And Joseph and Mary, of course.”

      “Of course. Is there anything green in this pile? I think green would be lovely for Mary—it’s the color of life.”

      “A wonderful suggestion, Ellen.” Willa smiled and scooped the pile into her arms. “Let me put these on the chair by the hearth while we make our choices. That way you’ll get nice and warm before you leave for Butternut Hill.”

      “A good idea. Perhaps we can— Oh, my...”

      “What?”

      She laid aside the brown wool dress she held and touched a bit of white lace peeking out of the pile. “Look at this.” A tattered lace-trimmed tablecloth unfolded as she pulled it from the pile. “Is there an angel?”

      “Certainly. We can’t have the Christmas story without including the angel that brought the good tidings.” Willa smiled at her, then leaned down and riffled through the pile. “What have we to use for Joseph? Perhaps dark blue? Ah...”

      “What?”

      “Here is something green.” Willa tugged a dress from the pile and held it up. “Is this the color you had in mind for Mary?”

      She stared at the deep green color of the dress—the color Daniel’s eyes turned when he was angry. The color they were whenever he looked at her. Her pleasure in their quest for the right fabrics dulled. “It’s perfect.” She draped the white tablecloth over the chair back and moved closer to the fire to warm herself. Daniel was on his way back to camp, and soon she would be following his path on the sleigh ride to Butternut Hill. He was leading the way, cutting a trail as he always had. A bittersweet smile touched her lips, then turned to a frown. She had to stop remembering. Thankfully, Daniel would be busy at work hauling logs during her time home and would not be around to remind her of her silly, childish dreams.

       Chapter Four

      “Ease up, Big Girl. Whoa, Big Boy.” Daniel hopped off the sledge and tromped forward as yard workers, peaveys and steel rods in hand, swarmed onto the pile of logs he’d hauled in.

      “Daniel!”

      He turned at the hail, spotted Cole Aylward and trudged through the trampled snow of the log yard to the sawmill. “You wanted me?”

      “Yes. Come into the office while the men unload your sledge.”

      He glanced up at the smoke rising from the chimney. “With pleasure.” He stomped up the log slide to the sawmill deck and followed Cole into the attached room. Warmth from the woodstove СКАЧАТЬ