Christmas With the Colburns (4 page)

Chapter Six

“…
Surely goodness and
mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of
the Lord forever.
” Lydia closed her Bible, believing Isabella had fallen
asleep. Though the mid-morning light flooded her great-aunt’s bedroom, it felt
dark. With the heavy drapes tied back and the sash windows raised, fresh air
flowed through the room as a salty-sweet breeze blew in from the ocean. It
lifted the edge of a doily that topped the table by Isabella’s rocking chair
and knitting basket. She hadn’t sat there to knit in months. Her knitting
basket held a half-finished pink and blue blanket that was meant for Levi and
Mandy’s firstborn. The baby would come in another month or so, but Isabella
would not finish the blanket.

“More,” Isabella wheezed, her torso propped up by pillows.

Lydia nodded, even though Isabella wouldn’t see her. She
continued with the Twenty-Fourth Psalm. “
The
earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.
” She glanced away from the
page. Isabella’s blind eyes were closed and her sallow face taut, but she was
mouthing every word from memory as Lydia read.
“…the world, and they that dwell therein.
”

Isabella stopped mouthing the words and Lydia paused her reading.
Her great aunt took a deep breath and then went completely still. Lydia watched
her chest, waiting for it to move with exhalation.

She counted the seconds in her head.

When thirty had passed, she slid her Bible onto Isabella’s
nightstand and reached for her aunt’s hand. The instant Lydia touched her,
Isabella sat straight up in bed. Her eyes opened wide and she smiled as if
seeing a friend in front of her. Her lips twitched as though she were about to
speak, but only a long breath hissed from her open mouth.

Lydia glanced at the wall opposite the bed. There was no one
else in the room. They were alone. As she looked back at her aunt, Isabella
closed her eyes and slumped onto the pillows.

Lydia moved swiftly out of professional reflex, as though she
could catch this woman she loved and keep her another day—even another
hour—but her time in this world had ended.

Isabella’s body lay inert, her soul at peace in a new body
with seeing eyes and dancing feet, but Lydia held on longer and harder than she
intended. This was the woman who had filled some of the void after her mother
died and the only person she had allowed herself to cry in front of. This was
the friend whose support gave her the confidence to become the first female
doctor in Good Springs and who encouraged her through every difficulty. This
was the person who first told her Connor was a good man when others were
suspicious of the outsider.

She wanted Isabella back for one more minute, one more verse,
one more laugh, one more quiet conversation where her aunt would listen to her
and reassure her and give her the kind of advice that had made Lydia the
down-to-earth woman she was. Just once more. But she was gone.

“Thank you. I will never forget you.” Lydia kissed Isabella’s
forehead and wept.

* * *

Lydia held Andrew close and wrapped her woolen shawl around
them both as she stepped outside. The unseasonable chill in the air pricked her
skin. At least she tried to tell herself it was the cool morning air that was
making her skin crawl.

Dewy grass wet her ankles as she met Connor beside his horse.
She didn’t want him to go. “Do you have everything you need?”

He wiped his hands on his pants and then tousled Andrew’s
hair. “Yeah.” He fastened a buckle on a saddlebag and looked at her with the
half grin and unshakable confidence she had fallen in love with. Her heart
skipped a beat as the pull that initially attracted her drew her once again. He
was her husband, her lover, the father of her child, and he was riding out to
another village when she needed him most.

Her voice lost its authority as she continued her half-wife,
half-doctor orders. “I put a jar of ground gray leaves in your satchel, as well
as a jar of ointment and—”

“I’ll be fine, Doc.”

“And a roll of bandaging material—”

He reached for her and drew her and the baby close. “Don’t
worry about me. I can take care of myself. I will miss you both, but I will be
back on Christmas Day.”

Her chin quivered and she tried to control it. She had held
back her tears through Isabella’s burial and the long night that followed, so
she could hold them back a few more minutes. She managed a nod.

His dark eyes peered into hers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” No matter how she tried, there was nothing she
could hide from her husband. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

She didn’t want his worry any more than he wanted hers.
“Connor, I have a baby and a house to take care of, and Sophia is moving into
the cottage tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty to keep me occupied. She’s excited to
learn, and that gives me something to look forward to.”

A playful smile broke his solemn expression. “Did you know
your nose turns pink when you’re trying not to cry?”

She straightened her posture. “I said I’m fine.”

His seriousness returned. “You’re not… but you will be.” He
stroked her arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I know you miss
Isabella, and losing her will make you miss your mom too. You’re a strong
woman.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He pulled back and locked her gaze with his. “This
will be hard, but it’s not going to break you.”

“What about you? The other overseers in the Land might be
grateful that Father has found his replacement in Good Springs, but they will
not make this process easy on you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle anything.” His confidence
was back to borderline cockiness, and she liked it.

She looked up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He kissed her like it was their wedding day.
“Miss me.”

“I will.”

Chapter Seven

Lydia emptied a basket of Andrew’s toys on the parlor rug and
sat the baby in the midst of them. As he began to play, she stared out the
window at the empty road and let her eyes lose focus. Connor was gone. He would
be back by Christmas dinner like he said—if he could help it. But it was
a long day’s ride to Woodland on horseback, and so many things could happen to
him along the way. What if he fell from his horse or got sick or had a heart
attack on the road and no one came by for hours—possibly days?

No, she shouldn’t think like that.

Her heart could ache from mourning Isabella’s death, and the
big house could feel empty with her husband away, but she could not let her
imagination frighten her with endless possibilities. Connor had told her not to
worry about him, and that wasn’t an arbitrary order but a directive meant to
protect her peace. She needed a distraction.

She snapped her gaze from the road outside and sank her hand
into her dress pocket. Her fingers traced the little journal Isabella had given
her. She pulled it out of her pocket. It still smelled like lavender. Her aunt
had said it told the story of her mother’s happiest time. Lydia’s father
probably should have been given the journal first. If it were about him and his
wife, he should decide who reads it. But at present, he was working in the barn
and had no idea the pocket-sized notebook existed.

The house was quiet, save for Andrew’s babbles as he
inspected his wooden ABC blocks. Lydia lowered herself to the rug beside him
and leaned her back against the divan. She opened the journal’s cover. A tear
blurred her vision as she read her mother’s name, written by her mother’s hand.
The story begged to be read, so her fingers turned the page.

I expected my
eighteenth Christmas to be a lonesome holiday, missing my family and dreading
the future, but one week with the Colburns of Good Springs changed my life
forever.

The Monday after my
eighteenth birthday, my parents told me I had an hour to pack my things. At
first I thought Father was jesting, but one look at Mother’s pink nose and
quivering chin and I knew this was serious.

Mother’s eyes implored
me to understand as she explained. “Your grandmother needs a caretaker, and I’m
her only child. I’m also the heir to her property in Northpoint. The elders
there have decided I can only claim the inheritance if your father and I move
there immediately and take care of her. It’s right for us to go back to
Northpoint.”

“Go back? But I was
born here. The village of Good Springs is my home.” I staggered back and
gripped the quilt rack to steady myself. “You want me to move to Northpoint
with you? Today?”

Father carried an old
trunk into my room and plunked it down at the foot of my bed. “We’d hoped you
would find a husband before you finished school, but you didn’t. You’re still
my responsibility, and you can’t stay here alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone.
Charles is staying here, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. This farm
is your brother’s now.” The trunk’s iron hasp creaked as Father opened the lid.
“We are hopeful that you will find a husband in Northpoint.”

 
I glared into the splintery trunk. “I
don’t want to leave Good Springs. Not like this.”

My father sighed. “The
house in Northpoint is much bigger. You’ll see. And since your brother gets
this property, if you come with us, you’ll inherit the Northpoint property one
day.”

“It has a beautiful
orchard,” Mother chimed in. “You’ll love it there.”

“Why can’t I stay here
with Charles?”

Mother gave Father a
look, and he answered, “Since your brother is married now, he and his wife need
their privacy.”

“She hates me doesn’t
she?”

Mother raised a palm.
“She does not hate you. This is best for all of us. You can either go with us
to Northpoint or you can accept Cousin Virginia’s offer. In her last letter she
said she would love to have you live with them in Riverside. She was sure she
could find you a husband in her village. You can help her with the children until
you’re married.”

“Cousin Virginia and
her husband have nine children. Of course they’re eager for live-in help.” I
sat on the bed and scooted away from the stinky trunk. “I don’t want to move to
Riverside either.”

“But you love children.
You’ve always said you want a big family someday.”

“Of my own.”

“It’s that or come to
Northpoint with your father and me. We are taking the wagon, so if you go to
Riverside, you’ll have to ride with the next trader who is going west.” Mother
sat beside me and the mattress sagged. “I’m sorry this is sudden, but we just
got the message today. We stopped at the Colburns’ house after we heard the
news and told the overseer and his wife our plans. Mrs. Colburn said if you
decide to go to Riverside, you are welcome to stay with them until the traders
go through the village on Saturday.”

All I wanted in life
was to marry a kind and godly man and fill a home with children. And even
though I didn’t have any prospects, I always imagined it would be here in Good
Springs. Riverside and Northpoint were both so far away—several days by
wagon—and both options seemed so final.

If I went to
Northpoint, I would be with my parents and someday inherit my grandmother’s
property, but I would have to leave immediately. If I went to Riverside, I would
probably end up a spinster nanny for my cousin’s children, but at least I would
have a few days more in Good Springs to tell my friends goodbye.

I started packing.
“Fine. I’ll go to Cousin Virginia’s in Riverside.”

Lydia left her finger in the journal to mark her place and
glanced around the parlor. Her mother had never mentioned any of this. Lydia
only met her grandparents once before they passed away, and her Uncle Charles
and his wife kept to themselves at their farm north of Good Springs. As a child,
she had never wondered why they didn’t gather for special occasions. It had
seemed normal for grown-ups to have their own families. So why did it bother
her so much now that her siblings wanted to establish their own holiday
traditions too?

Andrew rolled onto his side and started chewing on a rag toy.
Lydia rubbed the baby’s back with one hand and reopened the journal with the
other.

My parents stayed up on
the wagon bench when they dropped me off at the Colburns’ house on their way
out of Good Springs. I kissed them both and took Mr. Colburn’s hand as I
stepped down. He was an august older man with a soothing voice, which is
pleasant in an overseer considering how the church must listen to his sermons
each week.

Mrs. Colburn hoisted a
basket of food up to my parents for their journey. They hardly gave it a
glance. Mrs. Colburn wiped her hands on her apron as she kindly wished them
well.

The whole day had been
shrouded in a dreamlike haze. I hadn’t thought about John Colburn being there
until he lifted my trunk from the back of the wagon. John was the Colburns’
eldest son and only living child. Seven years my senior, he had finished
secondary school before I entered, so I didn’t know him well. All I knew was
that he was polite and serious and would one day inherit his father’s property
and become overseer of Good Springs.

As John carried my
trunk into the house and Mr. Colburn spoke with my parents, Mrs. Colburn walked
me toward the back door. She chirped about baking and Christmas decorations and
all the amusing things we could do during my stay. Her cheerful demeanor was
like a ray of sunlight peeking between storm clouds. I couldn’t take my eyes
off her.

Once inside the
Colburns’ warm kitchen, I heard my parents’ wagon drive away. I stepped to the
window to wave, but they were already gone.

“There now,” Mrs.
Colburn cooed as she ushered me away from the window, “this will all be for the
best. You’ll see.”