Christmas With the Colburns (2 page)

Chapter Two

Clouds dimmed the afternoon sunlight, darkening Lydia’s
medical office, so she moved an oil lantern closer to the patient cot for more
light. She gripped her surgical pliers with one hand and Nicholas Vestal’s
mud-caked foot with the other. As she pulled the rusty nail out of his heel, he
howled so loudly she wished she had given him a rag to bite.

Baby Andrew laughingly mimicked Nicholas’s cry and crawled
across the medical office floor. Nicholas didn’t seem to mind the baby, and
Lydia was thankful. Connor always said not to imagine what others might think
of her, but she was the first female doctor in the village of Good Springs and
didn’t want her hard-earned respect diminished.

“It’s a good thing it was a short nail, Nicholas.” She
dropped the pliers and nail into a porcelain bowl on the counter beside the
patient cot and pressed a piece of gauze against the bleeding puncture wound.
“But it was rusted. Where did you step on it?”

“Behind the barn.” His wooly sideburns puffed as he grimaced.
“I was mending a gate.”

“At the Foster farm? You work barefoot?”

“My boots had water in them. I had them drying in the sun.”

“Why didn’t you go and get another pair?”

“When? While the sheep were wandering down the road?”
Nicholas drew his head back and glowered as though he’d sucked on a lemon. He
was handsome in a rugged shepherd kind of way when he wasn’t stretching his
face into exaggerated expressions. “I’m working with Everett to earn my own
flock. I’ll owe more sheep than I earn if I can’t keep the gates closed.”

“I understand.” She inspected the hole in the bottom of his
foot. It needed to be flushed out. “Still, it would be best if you wore shoes
while out-of-doors.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes as he reclined on the cot. “You
sound like my aunt.”

“I’m not. I’m the doctor. Hold your foot over this pan,” she
said as she poured clean water into the wound. The cool water mixed with blood
and dirt as it dripped into the pan. “It makes no difference to me which one of
us you listen to. Please wear shoes while you’re working.”

As she pressed clean gauze against Nicholas’s punctured foot,
baby Andrew crawled to her desk. He grabbed a drawer handle to pull himself up.
The drawer slid open and popped the baby in the forehead. He fixed his brown eyes
on Lydia, sucked in a breath, and wailed with such force even Nicholas
flinched.

Lydia put Nicholas’s hand over the gauze. “Hold this firmly
over the wound,” she said as she left her patient and scooped the baby from the
floor. Andrew’s forehead was fine, but he continued crying. A yawn interrupted
his sobs, and his cry changed tone.

She held the baby as she returned to Nicholas and checked the
gauze. “The bleeding stopped.” She kissed Andrew’s forehead as she reached for
a jar of gray leaf ointment. He wasn’t going to stop crying, and she had work
to do.

She shifted the whimpering baby and used her free hand to
open the jar. The gray leaf medicine’s potent aroma filled the room with its
sharp minty scent. Still holding the baby, she slathered a generous dollop of
the medicinal salve on Nicholas’s wounded foot. She closed the lid on the glass
jar and held it out to him. “The gray leaf medicine in this should remove the
pain within minutes. Take the rest of it home with you… or back to the Fosters’
farm.”

“I’m still living in the shepherd’s cabin there.”

“Right, well, use the ointment on the wound twice a day to
ward off infection.”

He nodded and then pointed at the crying baby. “He’s got
Connor’s coloring.”

“And Connor’s need for adventure.” Lydia rubbed Andrew’s back
as she stepped to the cabinet for bandaging material. She glanced at Nicholas
and tried to think of something to say to distract from the crying baby. “Do
you have any special plans for Christmas?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if you’d call my plans special,
but my aunt usually makes a big roast for dinner on Christmas Day. My family
never had elaborate traditions like some people. My grandfather always said it
was better not to have traditions than to be disappointed when they ended.”

Lydia thought of her family’s traditions and her
disappointment with the coming holiday. “Our traditions changed when my mother
died years ago. I’ve tried my best to keep some of the traditions alive, but it
seems I’m the only one who cares any more. Perhaps your grandfather was
right—”

After one short knock, the office door opened a few inches.
Bethany stuck her head inside. “Lydia, Aunt Isabella needs you.”

Lydia crossed the medical office with three quick
strides—still holding the baby—and met her younger sister at the
door. “I’m with a patient. What does she need?”

Bethany fidgeted with the delicate silver bracelet at her
wrist. “She asked for you. Oh, hello Nicholas. I wondered why Everett’s wagon
was parked out front.”

Nicholas smiled apologetically. “Everett drove me here to see
the doctor. It was just a nail in my foot, but he insisted. He’s in the barn
now.”

“In the barn?” Bethany’s countenance lit at the mention of
Everett’s presence. “I’ll go see him.”

“Wait.” Lydia stopped her love-struck sister. “Can you help
Isabella first, please?”

Bethany shook her head. “I tried. She doesn’t need any help.
She just wants you to sit with her.”

“Tell her I will be back in the house in few minutes,” Lydia
raised her voice over Andrew’s cries. “I’m almost done here.”

Bethany touched the baby’s arm. “What’s wrong with Andrew?”

“He hit his head.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. It’s past his naptime.”

Bethany pointed at his back. “He has blood on his shirt.”

Lydia checked the baby and saw a smear of her patient’s
blood. It was on her hand too. “I was in the middle of cleaning a wound when
Andrew needed me.”

Bethany reached for the baby. “I’ll take him in the house
with me.”

“What about going to see Everett?”

“You need me more,” she said, and then she looked at
Nicholas. “Do tell Everett to come say hello before you leave.”

Nicholas nodded. “I will.”

Lydia kissed the baby then watched Bethany carry him away.
“Thank you. Connor should be home from teaching school soon.” She closed the
door, washed her hands, and unwrapped the muslin material to cut a length for a
bandage.

Nicholas raised himself to his elbows. “Everett told me about
your aunt. She sounds like an interesting person. I wish I’d known her before
she lost her faculties. Do you think her health will improve?”

“No. She’s seventy-eight, blind, and has been bedridden for
months. Her heart is still strong, but she doesn’t know who anyone is any more
except...”

“Except you?”

“Except me. It’s thoughtful of you to ask about her.” Lydia
wrapped the bandage around Nicholas’s foot. “How does that feel?”

“Much better. Thank you.” He wiggled his toes then stood.
“You were right about the gray leaf ointment. I can’t feel the pain at all
now.”

“Remember to use the rest of it like I told you.”

He limped to the door, keeping the heel of his bandaged foot
off the floor. “It doesn’t hurt, but I probably shouldn’t press my heel to the
ground, should I?”

“No. And please wear shoes while you’re working from now on.”

A grin spread to his sideburns. “Yes, of course.” He stopped
at the door. After a moment, pensiveness filled his eyes. “I must say I’m
impressed with you. Not many women could manage a household and a baby and an
ailing relative and keep working as the village’s physician. You seem to do it
all with grace to spare.”

“That’s a very kind thing to say.” Lydia followed him to the
door and pointed at his foot. “You’re welcome to wait here and I’ll go tell
Everett to take you home.”

“No, thank you. I can handle it.” He smiled as he left the
medical cottage. “Thank you, Doctor Bradshaw.”

Chapter Three

Morning light flooded the kitchen as Lydia opened the back
door of the Colburn house. Heat from the wood-burning oven and the scent of
freshly baked cinnamon rolls warmed the wide room. She checked the oatmeal on
the stove. Breakfast was ready, Bethany had taken juice and a boiled egg to
Aunt Isabella, and Connor was dressing Andrew. The house was peaceful and tidy,
but inside Lydia felt like a mess. She peeked into the stocked pantry and
sighed. Less than a week until Christmas, but since her guest list had shrunk
from seventeen to five, she had lost her motivation to begin preparations.

Connor carried Andrew into the kitchen. He kissed Lydia then
sat at the table. Andrew giggled as his father bounced him on his knee. They
should be reason enough to cook a big Christmas dinner. If her siblings were
starting their own traditions, maybe she should too.

She spooned oatmeal into Andrew’s tiny bowl and stirred it.
“Ready for some breakfast?”

Connor reached for the little bowl. “Here, I’ll feed him.”

“Are you sure? You need to leave soon.”

“I have time. Today’s the last day of school. All I have to
do is give the final exam and grade the tests when the students are done. This
year my class is a smart group of kids. They’ll be finished by lunch.”

Lydia smiled as she reached for the serving tongs. “They have
a good teacher.” She pulled two hot cinnamon rolls from the steaming pan and
put one on her plate and one on Connor’s then sat beside him.

Andrew wiggled and grabbed for the spoon as Connor blew on the
oatmeal. “Hang on a second, pal. It’s too hot for you.”

John walked into the kitchen, running his fingers through his
graying hair. “Good morning,” he said as he stretched his suspenders over his
shoulders. “Today will be another fine day. Not a cloud in the sky.”

Lydia glanced at him as she picked up her fork. “Good
morning, Father.”

John lifted the coffee pot from the stove and carried it to
the table. He offered Connor a refill then sat at the head of the table.
Creases lined the corners of his crystal blue eyes as he flashed the baby a
grin. “How is my grandson this morning?”

Andrew squealed, and oatmeal dribbled to his chin. Connor
wiped it with the edge of the spoon and re-fed it to the baby. “He’s eating
like a champ.”

“Excellent. Grow up big and strong like your father.” John
handed Connor a napkin. “Lydia, what are your plans for the day?”

Before she could answer, Bethany shuffled in from the parlor,
holding a tray of untouched food. “I couldn’t get Aunt Isabella to wake up.”
She set the tray on the counter and looked at Lydia. “Maybe you should check on
her.”

John stood so quickly his wooden chair made a sharp screech
on the floor. Lydia accidentally swallowed a bite of cinnamon roll without
chewing it. The painful lump made her cough as she rose to leave the table.

John passed behind her chair. “Finish your breakfast. I will
go check Isabella.”

Bethany sank into the chair across from Lydia. She curled her
long legs into her chest and whispered, “Do you think Aunt Isabella is—”

“Shh!” Connor silenced Bethany as he tried to listen. Even
the baby held perfectly still until two muffled voices came from the back
bedroom.

John returned a moment later. “She was sleeping.”

Bethany sighed and released her legs. “Oh, thank God. When I
was trying to wake her, I didn’t consider that she might be dead.”

John laid his napkin in his lap. “Be prepared. Her time is
coming soon.”

“Father, that’s a horrible thing to say!”

He selected a cinnamon roll from the pan and arched an
eyebrow at Bethany. “It is the truth. She has not been out of bed for days. You
must prepare yourself so that you do not go into shock, should you be the one
to discover she has passed.”

Bethany frowned. “I don’t want to think about it.” She stood
and carried her empty juice glass to the sink. “I promised Mrs. Vestal I’d take
care of all the orders at the pottery yard today. I have to go to work.”

John cut a piece of cinnamon roll with his fork and swirled
it in the white icing on his plate. “Before you leave,” he said as he pointed
to a pail by the pantry, “please go milk Greta.”

Bethany picked up the bucket. “Fine. But who is going to milk
the cow after I get married and move out? Baby Andrew?”

Connor chuckled as he scraped the last of the oatmeal from
Andrew’s bowl and fed it to the baby. “He’ll be old enough to handle the chore
by then—the way you and Everett are dragging your feet to the altar.”

“Very funny.” Bethany strode out the back door.

John finished his breakfast and held his hands out to take
the baby. “Come see your grandfather, Andrew.” He looked at Connor. “Last day
of school?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you decided what you will do during the break?”

“You mean about training to be the next overseer?” When John
nodded, Connor pushed his plate of uneaten breakfast away. “I think we should
get the approval of the other villages’ overseers first. If they don’t think I
should be the next overseer of Good Springs, then I don’t even have a decision
to make.”

John sipped from his coffee mug. The baby took a playful
swipe at the cup. John didn’t flinch. He placed it on the table out of Andrew’s
reach. “Since the role of village overseer is normally passed from father to
son, it might seem like a radical change to some people—my training a man
who is my son-in-law and not my son—but the overseers of the other
villages understand our situation. It is no secret that Levi has never felt
called to be the next overseer of Good Springs. The elders have prayed for
years that God would send the right man for the position after me. I believe
you are that man.”

“I’m open to the possibility, but there are parts of the job
I’m not ready for.”

“You are a natural leader.” John patted the baby’s back. “Most
people in the village recognize your authority. And we already know you are a
good teacher.”

Connor leaned forward. “I have no problem settling disputes,
officiating weddings, and having the final say in village business; it’s the
weightier responsibility of pastoring the church that deserves more
consideration.” He pressed his hands together and stared at the peak of his
fingers. “I have so much to learn.”

Lydia listened to her father and husband as she began
cleaning the kitchen. They rarely spoke about village business at the breakfast
table, and she liked being allowed to listen. She pressed the wooden foot pedal
beneath the sink, and water pumped in from the well.

John continued trying to convince Connor to accept his
calling. “That is why we should begin your training during the summer months
while you are free of your teaching duties. I am fifty-four years old. My father
and grandfather both passed away before they were my age. I might live another
thirty years and be able to continue working as overseer, or I might need a
replacement next month. Since my son is not called to the position, I must find
another man to train.” John passed the baby back to Connor. “You are right to
give this decision much prayer and consideration, but I have full confidence
that you are the right man for the position. I want you to ride out to Woodland
Monday morning and spend a few days with the overseer there. It is time to move
the process forward.”

Lydia dropped the metal tongs into the sink, and the sharp
clink drew everyone’s attention. “A few days? In Woodland? But Christmas is
Thursday!”

Connor gave her a don’t-worry-about-man-business look and
patted the air. “I’ll be back for Christmas, I promise.”

John glanced between them. “I will let the two of you discuss
it,” he said as he walked out the back door. “But I will need your answer soon,
Connor.”

Lydia took the baby from Connor. “This will be Andrew’s first
Christmas, and already most of my family members have made other plans. You
have to be here.”

 
“I’ll be here,
but I really think you’re making too much of this. I know you want all of your
siblings to be here every Christmas for the rest of your life, but you have to
let people do what’s right for them. I think it’s good that Levi and Mandy are
going to spend the day with Roseanna and Everett at the Fosters’ farm, since
it’s their first year without Samuel. And your sisters aren’t being selfish.
Their families are growing too, and the long wagon trip here is hard on the
children.” Connor shrugged and put his coffee mug in the sink. “Besides, the
seasons are opposite here in the Land from what I grew up with in America, so
it never feels like Christmas to me anyway. As a kid I felt sorry for people
living on the Southern Hemisphere—warm Christmases and cold
Julys—and now I’m one of you.” He winked at her, but she didn’t smile.

He spoke casually about the one holiday tradition that was
important to her: having her whole family together on Christmas Day. It was her
way of honoring her mother. How could she give that up?

She backed away from the sink. “Fine,” she huffed as she
carried the baby out of the room. “Go spend the week in Woodland. My Christmas
is ruined anyway!”