The Magic of Christmas. Carolyn Davidson

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      By the light of a candle and the glow from the stove, Marianne watched the woman leave from the back door, heard the click of the lock as she was safely left inside and settled down to feed Joshua and drink her tea. The bread was good—fresh and still soft. The cheese was nourishing and the milk seemed to agree with Joshua, for he drank his fill and then burped, loud and long, before he snuggled against Marianne’s bosom and closed his eyes.

      She lay down on the narrow cot, thankful for the warmth surrounding her. Her heart rose as she considered the generous spirit of the woman she’d just met, thankful she’d been given a bed to sleep in and food to eat. With no questions asked.

      Joshua slept the whole night through and when the back door opened in the dim light of morning, Marianne sat up and rubbed her eyes, peering at the man who entered the back room of the store.

      “You still here?” he asked roughly. “I told the missus you’d probably be off with everything you could carry before we opened up this morning, but she was sure you were a good girl. Guess she won this bet.” He moved on through the room, leaving Marianne stunned as she sat up on the cot, watching his progress through the doorway into the store.

      She rose and brushed her hair back, wrapping Joshua more securely in his blanket before she placed him on the cot and followed the man into his store.

      “Sir, I want to thank you for a place to sleep last night. I appreciated the warm bed and the milk for Joshua.”

      “My wife’s a soft touch,” he said, turning to watch Marianne with narrowed eyes, his gaze covering her slim form quickly. “She said to tell you she’ll let you stay here another night if you want to, but we can’t do much more than that. She sent over some oatmeal she cooked for breakfast and a cup of milk for you and the baby. There’s still tea in the tin for you to use if you want it.”

      The man’s welcome was not warm, but Marianne was pleased at his offering of food, especially that of milk for Joshua’s bottle. She rinsed out the dregs from the night before and filled it again, placing it beside the bed for when he would wake and be hungry. The bowl of oatmeal she held in her lap, sitting again on the cot and eating it quickly. Warm and nourishing, it filled her stomach and she was thankful.

      She rinsed the bowl in the sink, washed her face and hands and brushed her hair back, dampening the sides to hold it in place.

      From behind her, the gentleman spoke. “My Janet said to tell you to come on over to the house and tend the baby if you want to. She’s got hot water and soap and such you can use.”

      “Thank you ever so much,” Marianne said. “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll be on my way.”

      In minutes she was rapping on the back door of a twostory house behind the general store. Janet opened the door for her. “Come on in, girl. I’ll warrant that baby needs a good washing up and some clean clothes to wear, don’t he?”

      “I’d surely appreciate a washcloth and a bar of soap for him,” Marianne said quietly. “He hasn’t had a bath in two days. And my mama always said a baby should be washed up every morning.”

      “Your mama was right, and your little one there looks pretty healthy. You musta been taking good care of him.”

      “I’ve tried my best,” Marianne said stoutly. “He’s doing pretty well, putting on a little weight and sleeping pretty well.”

      “You’re a good mama to him, girl. Just go on over there and use that basin and towel and clean him up a little.”

      Marianne washed Joshua and put a clean diaper on his bottom. Janet came up with a used but clean small kimono she said she had no use for.

      “My Robbie is three years old, and he hasn’t worn this for a year or better. You might as well have it for your young’un,” she said kindly.

      “I’ll wash out Joshua’s other two gowns and hang them up to dry if I can,” Marianne said softly. “His diapers need to be washed, too.”

      “Use the bath water if you want to,” Janet told her. “You can hang them behind the stove. They’ll dry there real quick.”

      By noon, the small stash of laundry was dry, including Marianne’s underclothes and her dress, and she folded the few diapers and gowns and placed them in her bag. Donning her own clothing, she determined that she would offer Janet cash for the food and care she’d received at her hand. The offer was turned down without hesitation, and Marianne was pleased to find such kindness in the woman.

      “I can’t thank you enough for your help,” she said, her words sincere, even though her smile wobbled a bit. “I’m going to set off and look for a place to stay, a job of some sort that will allow me to keep the baby with me.”

      “Had you thought about letting some couple take him to raise?” Janet asked. “He might be better off with a father to care for him.”

      “Well, his is dead and gone,” Marianne said, “and I’ve thought of giving him up to a family, but it seems that most everyone has enough of their own to take care of.”

      “The Thornley family, out east of town, might take him,” Janet said. “They’re good folks, with no little ones of their own. Maybe you could ride out and see them.”

      “I’ll think about it,” Marianne said slowly, not willing yet to give up her brother, remembering her mother’s hopes for his future and unable to turn her back on her own flesh and blood while she could still tend to him herself.

      “Ma’am, if I could help you some in the store or in your house today, I’d be pleased to earn out my bed for last night and maybe tonight. I don’t like to take your food and impose on you any without paying back in some way.”

      Janet hesitated, then nodded. “I appreciate your honesty,” she said, scrubbing at a skillet in the sink. “If you’d like to lend a hand, I’ve got to get our Christmas dinner ready for the morning. My man’s folks will be coming in from out of town later on today to spend Christmas with our young’uns. They always come early so’s we can go to church on Christmas Eve together.”

      “I’ll do whatever you’d like for me to,” Marianne answered with a smile. “Maybe by morning I’ll come up with something else to do. Might be if I go to church for the service tonight, I’ll see somebody who might need a hired hand or help around the house.”

      “Being a hired hand is no work for a woman,” Janet said bluntly. “The places hereabouts are pretty well run already. Can’t think offhand of anybody who’d need help. But it won’t hurt to ask around if you go to the service tonight. It’s Christmas Eve and folks are in a softer mood than usual this week. I’ll ask around, too—maybe between us we can find something for you to do.”

      Marianne spent the day scrubbing and cleaning Janet’s house, using a brush on the kitchen floor and a dust cloth on the furniture in the parlor. Late in the day Janet’s husband, Tom, dragged in a tall spruce tree, freshly cut from the woods north of town. He quickly formed a stand for it with four small pieces of wood, and it stood in the corner of the parlor, almost touching the ceiling.

      Janet’s four youngsters gathered around as their father carried boxes of decorations from the attic and placed them on the floor. “Have at it, young’uns,” he said jovially. And with glad cries and laughter, the four children СКАЧАТЬ